Rory is kicking ass and taking names at the paper. She is tying up loose ends to get the issue out before leaving for the wedding. Paris, particularly, is presenting a challenge. Her column on the issue of tenure for professors actually turned out to be two columns: one for automatic tenure and one against it. Paris was thinking that Rory might want to print both pieces. "You want me to print a point/counterpoint," Rory asks, "where both points are written by the same person?" Paris: "Bold, huh?" Rory gives her five minutes to pick a side, and is almost ready to leave when the two stupid girls who hang around with Logan's friends show up with a proposition. Am I supposed to know their names? One's blonde and one's a redhead. The two of them plus Rory equals some kind of twenty-years- after-the-fact Witches Of Eastwick. They want Rory to go with them to Costa Rica to surprise the boys on their Life and Death Brigade jaunt. "We thought we'd set up a fabulous camp," Red says, "dress up like natives in grass skirts and coconut bras, and meet the boy with food, fresh booze, and shaving cream." Rory suggests that they re-check their guide books: "I don't think that the natives of Costa Rica wear coconut bras." Rory turns them down, much to their surprise, and they pout out of the room, shooting a Woodward and Bernstein joke at Rory's assistant editors. Having resisted getting sucked into their vapid tornado, Rory packs up to leave, telling one of the other editors to proof Paris's piece when it's in. "I can't pick a side," Paris says. "Either way I look at it, I'm right."
Lorelai is at the Inn with Michel, stuffing gift bags for Lane's bachelorette party. She has asked him to attend the wedding with her, and he was thrilled to accept, especially since it will give him an opportunity to look fabulous and bust out his unparalleled dance moves. Michel tells Lorelai not to stay out too late or drink too much at the party: "You'll be puffy." She smirks that she'll try to keep herself to half a box of wine. "You are going to be with me," says Michel, "and I am going to look fantastic, and you know that who you are with is always a reflection of yourself, and I don't want my reflection to look like Judy Garland, the Mark Herron years." He goes over their wardrobe options for the next day, and move on to discuss dancing. He reminds her that he is an amazing dancer, and will not hesitate to tear up the dance floor: "It's what I do at parties to compensate for the elevated calorie intake. I just shake it all off."