La Brea Park. Unfunny "wackiness" involving parking passes and old women chasing them in golf carts. Long story short, La Brea la blows.
Leery Lakes. A shot of the end credits of Dawson's magnum dopus; then Mitch "The Flash" Leery turns off the TV and tells Dawson that he doesn't know how, but Dawson managed to make Mr. Brooks "seem like Harrison Ford." Dawson, leaning on the doorjamb: "So it's okay, then." The Flash blathers on about "as your father" blah blah blah "prone to subjectivity" blah blah blah "when USC calls and begs you to join their program" blah blah blah Flashcakes. Short form: he thinks it's great. Dawson flops into an uncomfortable-looking wicker chair. The Flash notes that evidently Dawson's mind is "on other things" -- does he want to talk about it? Not really. He thanks his dad for watching the dopus; he needed an opinion besides Mr. Brooks's: "I mean, how could a man with an ego that big not love a movie that's all about him?" Projecting issues, table for one. The Flash isn't letting him off so easily, though, segueing -- about as gracefully as Star Jones on a pair of stilts, might I add -- into the subject of Gretchen by saying that Mr. Brooks really reminds him of Dawson. Dawson reacts incredulously, but The Flash cites "that part where he talks about that girl," and jumping over the counter, and they didn't even know each other, and feh, and "who does that?" "Hitchhikers," Dawson wise-asses, but The Flash corrects him, "Risk-takers. Dreamers," and goes on in an overly serious movie-trailers-narrator voice about people realizing that opportunities present themselves and change their lives "for-ev-er," like, The Flash? We get it. We've gotten it, many times. We will continue to get it in the future. We have met the getting and it is us, forever and ever world without "we don't get it," amen, to get or not to get, that is the question, and as it happens, the answer to that question is "we get it," we have nothing to get but getting it itself, ask not what "we get it" can do for you but what you can do for "we get it," namely nothing, because we get it, one small step for "we get it" and one giant leap for you SHUTTING UP, brevity is the SOUL of "we get it," all your base are belong to "we get it," a house divided against itself STILL gets it, we get it, we get it, WE GET IT, FOR THE LOVE OF BEER AND SKITTLES, WE FUCKING GET IT! SO! SHUT! UP! But does The Flash shut up? NO! He keeps JABBERING ON about men "lucky enough to see these moments"! Dawson could go out to California by himself! Brooks didn't! He saw! He knew! "Inspiration"! "Yeah, I guess he is"! We know! Because, see, the "it" to which you insist on referring repeatedly, time out of mind, endlessly, into the fourth dimension? Yeah, that "it"? THAT'S THE ONE WE GET!