I haven't eaten Ramen since my senior year of college. I totally wish it were my senior year of college.
A tiny, tiny plane carrying all of the people interested in spending lengthy vacation time in St. Louis lands on a small airport runway or maybe in the deserted city streets. I have seen St. Louis at 80 miles per hour more times than I can count, and I have stopped there not once. There's something about the arch which fairly screams, "I'm the only thing here!" that sends a defiant message to my bladder that sounds something like, "No thanks, we'll just wait for Illinois." Has anyone been there? Do y'all live there and you were reading this out loud with a match held under it and vitriol in your voice at, like St. Louis's TWoPcon And Djb-Effigy-Burning Extravaganza? Anyway, we learn from Trista that Charlie will be the first of the suitors to meet her family, and we cut to Charlie waiting for her, voicing over, "I want, by the end of this evening, to have Trista's family say, 'Wow, he's got a solid head on his shoulders and I feel that he would be great for our daughter.'" Well, I can't speak for the latter, but I can tell you that he's taken both Vidal and Sassoon hostage in an attempt to secure himself the most solid head one's shoulders could possibly support. He could split granite with his solid, solid head.
Out of her limo Trista steps and into Charlie's strong, virile man arms. She welcomes him to St. Louis and celebrates the overall beauty of the weather (with a beautiful breeze coming in off the...oh, wait, it's also landlocked), as she tells us, "He looked great. He always does. And today was no exception." I think that exact interview snippet has been used four times to refer to four different "he"s on four different days. Through the Botanical Gardens we go, Charlie explaining, "After our date in Cabo, I felt kind of a new connection to Trista. Kind of a new comfort with her." And, first of all, he says "Cabo" in a totally frat boy way, over-accentuating the "c" and drawling out the "ah" like he had a tongue depressor permanently installed in his soft palate. Actually, it appears as if he has indeed had a tongue depressor installed, called "Trista's tongue." They're in what appears to be some kind of tree house (and, I mean, you always feel younger than you are when you go home again, but let's not get too literal here), "joking" in a very similar fashion how wacky it would be for Charlie to enter Trista's parents' house with his face all smeared with lipstick. I don't know. Whatever. That's what they're saying. Trista notes with a painful lack of foreshadowing that it feels "right" whenever she's with Charlie. Yes. But do you have a connection?