In the back of a black limousine where only they two and the cameraman and sound guy and a couple of fat guys in a sound-booth-rigged van traveling beside them can share their most intimate thoughts, Russ opens up. Sitting Roofie-popping distance away from Trista in a vehicle that could easily seat a circus freak who could swallow baby grand pianos whole, Russ regales Trista with a tale of domestic tranquility: "My mom sent me a card before I left to come down here. I open it up and it's a rose. My mom wrote, 'Y'know, no matter what happens, y'know, I'm, I'm glad you came this far in the process. I love you. And that's it.'" Love, Mrs. Satan. I can't believe we haven't heard of this letter before now. Perhaps this is because the ABC marketing department neglected to remind us that, at the time Russ's mom gave him the card, it was the most! Shocking! Rose! Ceremony! Yet! Trista reaches out a hand and, with a superficial "awwwwwww," grazes Russ's upper forearm with an accompanying I-pity-your-eternally- dark-soullessness cock of the head. Russ, in turn, takes this new sensory information as a sign that he must reach out with his own non-liquor-glass-containing hand and grab Trista's upper thigh for an extended period of time. Trista looks out the window in what I decide is horror. Cock? Blocked. Gack. Good luck dry-cleaning the smarm off of that fabric. And though we all know Trista won't end up with Russ in the end, for now, at this moment, Trista has sold her pants to Satan.
I'm sorry, is that the Goodyear Blimp? Well. At least the producers seem to want Russ dead almost as much as we do. A team of blimp specialists navigate that big-ass thing around an open field as Brussque notes from the back seat, "I've never kissed anybody on a blimp before." Trista asks what makes him think he's going to kiss anyone on a blimp today, a rhetorical question I'd actually like to answer with a line of dialogue from one of the best half-hours of reality television in history, as I feel it also applies to what will come of this situation: "Whore! Whore! Whore! Whore! Whore!" Dude. Trista. Why couldn't you just stay away? Sell the bracelet and buy your perspective out of hock. It's enough already. Russ puts an unreciprocated arm around Trista as they approach the Hindenbachelor, and we cut to the aforementioned blimp specialists literally pushing the damn thing up in the air to get it going. Why would people ever put their faith in a form of transportation that has the same take-off procedure as the airplanes on The Flintstones? Nevertheless, up they go, Russ and Trista each wearing kiss-inhibiting giant headpieces that makes their dialogue sound like it was mixed down by Beck. Russ voices over that "it couldn't have been more romantic," and Trista and Russ intertwine their fingers and stare at the sunset. On the side of the blimp, the words "Russ + Trista" scroll up in giant pink letters. Was that digitally added later? If not, who is there to see it? Why is the blimp talking, anyway? Oh, the humanity!