Back at home, Lorelai is ironing all of Rory's clothes on the theory that the flatter they are, the more she can fit into the suitcase. Rory, still emotional, tells her that saying goodbye to Lane was hard, and Lorelai dismisses it, picking up the fanny pack convo where they left off. Finally, Rory's had enough. "Mom," she interrupts. "I don't get it. How can you be so fine with everything?" Finally, Lorelai has to face it. "It's too soon," she says quietly. "If I stop to think about you leaving, now, I'm going to fall apart. We still have time left. It's too soon." Oh my God. Please, please make me stop crying, dammit. It IS too soon! For this SHOW to be off the air! Ain't right! Damn you to Hell, CW! You saddle us with yet another season of Chad Michael Murray and his squinting, hair-gelled, costar-marrying ass and can't make it work for these awesome people? Hate.
In the square, Luke is ordering the folks around during the setup. Turns out, East Side Tillie had a stash of table cloths in her basement, and Patty was delighted to wake her out of a deep sleep to get them. Even the Mystery Asian Waiter from the diner has a line when he arrives with a turntable for Kirk's DJ action. I am barely processing this when Babette comes screaming across the square. Her ankles are swollen! Not to be evil, but I expect it's been a long time since they weren't. She says her ankles only swell in premonition of a huge rainstorm, and Nick Walker, the Weather Channel's charming silver fox, confirms it. "Sorry for the bad news," she says, "but you know my ankles." Luke nods. "Yeah," he says, "that's true. They're never wrong." Hee. Babette says yeah, her hairs only 50/50, but the ankles are never wrong. Jackson, Brian, and Zach try to think of ideas, but none of them will work. "I don't suppose anybody has any idea where we can get a big wedding tent at one o'clock in the morning?" Jackson moans. They all sigh. "It was a nice idea, man," Zach says to Luke and they all wander away, defeated.
At the CS, Rory is asleep when Lorelai comes quietly into her room. She sits on the edge of her daughter's bed, sighs, and cries while the strummies strum. SO DO I.
Meanwhile, at the diner, I KEEP CRYING, as Luke sews a huge tent out of various tarps and raincoats. He opens the drawer under the register and finds the box with the "back-up necklace." He puts it in his pocket and keeps sewing.