Rory's in a reality spiral, and Logan tries again to suggest that she have a drink. Speaking of drinking, Rory has an opinion on that, too, all of a sudden: "I'm wasting my time, partying and drinking. Just hanging out, doing nothing." Logan somehow takes offense, telling her not to pull him into this. Rory says she didn't say anything about him, but he goes on, saying he can't be blamed for her drinking and partying: "That's your choice. When I ask you out, you can say no." Rory says that drinking and partying is all they do, and he takes issue, again. "It's all YOU do," she corrects herself, and the shit hits the fan. "That's my prerogative," he says. "Because come June, my life is over." Rory rolls her life. "Oh, yes," she snarks. "Your horrible life -- let's hear about it." Um, Rory? Can you not see the anvil of irony that looms ever closer to your head? No. Well, I guess Logan's going to have to spell it out for you. He tells her that no one is stopping her from making whatever she wants to happen, happen. "Go into journalism," he says, beginning to yell. "Go into politics! Be a doctor; be a clown! Do whatever you want!" She whines that it's not as easy when it's not handed to you. DUDE, SHUT UP, RORY. What has not been HANDED to your skinny ass?! Oh my GOD. I mean, I am glad that Rory is figuring it out right here, and everything, but she needs to stop tripping for a second and maybe pull a hanky out of her purse that costs more money than my life insurance would pay out if I died from a stroke right now caused by the combined ridiculousness of these two rich, intelligent asses arguing about whose life is harder. Logan says he has no choice about how his life is going to go, and that his family forces everything on him, and screams that Rory cannot blame him from her dropping out of Yale. He finally calms down and tries to get her to leave with him, but she refuses. Throwing money down on the table to cover the bill and her cab fare home, he leaves, telling her that staying is her choice.
In her blue Chanel, Emily goes to knock on Rory's door the next morning at 7:30. She finds the room empty, not having been slept in.
At Lorelai's, Luke wakes up to an empty bed, himself. He follows the path of shoes down to Rory's room, where Lorelai has been sitting up with Paul Anka. She has been watching him all night. Sweet Lauren Graham; she is amazing. She cries about Paul Anka -- he got cold in the middle of the night, so she put his soccer jersey on him. This scene tore me up, I'm not ashamed to admit. I love my damn dog so much, to the point of obsession, that it is embarrassing. When his canine nemesis across the street attacked him by our mailbox, I screamed like Sally Field in Not Without My Daughter. I know Lorelai's angst here is all about transference -- she once again feels that she's failed as a parent, like she thinks she did with Rory. She thinks Paul Anka was messing with her shoes to try to tell her to put her shoes on and take him to the vet so that he could get better. "I tried so hard," she says. "I have a list of things that he's afraid of, on the fridge. And I tried to do the right thing....I did this wrong. How could I have let this happen?" Luke tries repeatedly to console Lorelai. "How can I not fix these things?" she asks. "I'm a bad mother!" Luke says she needs to stay home that day and says he will call Sookie for her. Aw. I mean, I'm crying about the dog, but Luke's sweet, too.