Cut to Mark inside a small prop plane. He's wearing goggles and a yellow helmet, and is properly decked out to skydive. When his turn comes, he leaps out of the plane and luxuriates in soaring over rolling mountains and a cerulean ocean. It does appear to be Anthony Edwards doing the jumping, as if A Hero Will Fall Several Thousand Feet And Land In Our Hearts. Rachel, on the ground, stares up at Mark; she's sporting a very small bikini top. A native brat asks if it's her dad up there, and if this is a mid-life crisis plunge. "Something like that," brats Rachel. Bitch. It's an end-of-life crisis. Show some emotion. It's okay; Mark can't see you from up there.
Later, Mark strolls out to the pool in swim trunks and a t-shirt. He jauntily grabs a towel from a cabana boy and heads for the beach. He stops, then peels off his shirt for the cameras and pauses for a second in all his fleshy glory. This scene exists for no reason other than the exposure of Anthony Edwards's Jell-O pudding six-pack, and behind the camera, John Wells is swelling with pride. And badly concealed desire. Mark skips off to the ocean to live, live, live. He loves to run and skip, and live.
Inside, Rachel snuggles up to her pillow, asleep. Mark stirs her and offers her breakfast because it's almost 8 AM. Wait, so this isn't the same day as the skydiving? What happened? I guess we skipped a night. Or maybe nighttime skipped us. Maybe John Wells flogged Nighttime in a dark alley so it wouldn't interfere with his pretty "Mark skydiving and beach stripping" sequence. Rachel groans and rolls back over, and Mark cheerfully announces that time is passing and that they've got a lot to accomplish. Rachel's all, piss off; take your good mood, and hump it blue. Mark shouts out that he's got a history lesson on tap for her. Groggily, Rachel lifts her head. "What?" she moans. "My history," he clarifies.
Mark drives his beat-up red rental Jeep over a bridge. The closed-captioners announce that the song playing is Todd Rundgren's "Hello, it's Me," which is sort of nauseatingly cute since this is Mark's "Welcome to Me!" farewell tour. Mark's clad in a green plaid shirt, and his condom of choice is a red cloth baseball cap. Rachel bitches about the music, and sullenly wants to change the station. "No, I like this," Mark says, honoring whatever spine fragments he has left. Rachel chews on this. "This is where everything blew up?" she asks. How very simplistic of you, Rachel. Mark nods and points out the U.S.S. Arizona memorial, and reminisces that when he was young, the bridge didn't exist yet and they had to take ferries back and forth. Rachel pretty much ignores this little segment of Way Back In The Day.