M.C. Escher-esque seemingly endless flight of stairs, shot from below. We hear Carter before we see him, as he breathes very heavily and asks Nurse Bitchy for some compazine. She tells him she'll give him something after "group," if he's still nauseous then. Carter repeats, "Group?" and she explains that she's referring to group therapy. He asks when that is, and she says, "Now...the entire group meets whenever a new patient arrives." Carter leans over the railing and spits on the floor several storeys below. Uh. Monogrammed handkerchief? Kleenex? Wadded-up first-class airline napkin? No? Nice. Not. They round a bend and Carter stops to lean on the newel post. Nurse Bitchy stops with her back to him, rolling her eyes, and asks (rather disingenuously, if you ask me), "Ready?" Carter says that he isn't, and that he needs to lie down. She briskly informs him, "You'll make it." Carter yells, "Group therapy is not what I need right now!" Nurse Bitchy turns around and goes all tough love on his ass: "If you want to be in the program, you do the program. Otherwise, you can leave, and when you want a fix, you can score down on Tenth and Piedmont, which is six blocks down, one block over. Those guys are out there all night." I'm no addiction specialist, but is that really productive? Plus, don't junkies have their own built-in OnStar when it comes to sniffing out (as it were) a dealer? It's probably not like he needs her to draw him a map. She proceeds down the stairs, and Carter staggers along behind her, clearing his throat and, I'm guessing, still trying not to cry. Nurse Bitchy opens a door, where several patients are sitting and one dude (the leader, I'm guessing) is standing. "John Carter?" the apparent leader asks, as the camera frames Carter's face. He bravely answers: "Yes."
The opening credits begin. Sars giggles, rubbing it in. I throw a Twizzler at her. She eats it.
Over a shot of Kerry "Cane and Able" Weaver loudly calling for Security as something crashes through a glass window -- yes, within the first four minutes of the episode -- breaking it, a super in the bottom right corner tells us it's now "September." Funny, I thought it was "October," but I guess someone didn't take into account the fucking Olympics. Someone else didn't watch the fucking Olympics. The second person was me. As a large man runs (like a girl -- it must be observed) through the hall, Cleo "I Guess She'll Do in a" Finch chases after him, imploring him to put the needle down. The Running Man yells back that he told her, "no needles!" Weaver chimes in that she told Finch to put the patient in restraints. Finch yells, "I did!" and, hurrying after him, asks Lily to call for extra Security. The ER is in even worse disarray than usual, with garbage bags piled up on the floor and on top of shelves and carts in the hallway. Replace the phrase "garbage bags" with the word "towels," and you'll have an idea of what it looked in my second-floor hallway last week after the sixth occupant of our house had satisfied his or her Urge to Herbal. I swear, Gustave used a different towel to dry each of his toes individually.