By the way, if you'll allow me a brief aside: I am working on this recap once again from a alternate location. Alternate, meaning, not on my couch -- I am at a coffee shop, where I am having to repeatedly turn up the volume on my headphones because of the EXTREMELY LOUD French being spoken next to me. Now, I live in darkest, remotest Georgia, okay, where most of my neighbors have either "the South will rise again" or "CRUNK" bumper stickers on their back windshields. Thus, one does not often hear people exchanging small talk en franÃ§ais. The best part? This is a direct, translated quote: "So, we went last night with John to Gladys Knight's and had some fried chicken. I bought some t-shirts." I know I got it right because "Gladys Knight," "fried chicken," and "t-shirts" were all in English. Brilliant.
Back at the crap shack, Lorelai jogs down the stairs to open the door to a leather-jacket clad Christopher, who has arrived to take her on their mystery date. He kisses her in a very familiar way that makes me mad. She complains that he looks great, which is easy to do when you know where you're going, which she does not. I complain because, in their zeal to straighten her hair, it looks like they ironed it with an actual iron, and left her laying across the board too long, thus burning the ends. It's hard to make this woman's hair look bad, and yet.... In any case, she looks beautiful in her black dress which she points out can be converted from formal elegance to casual fun-times wear. They engage in a lot of cute chat, and I'd recap it, but you know...it sucks. He refuses to give her any hints about the date and finally, after much badgering on her part, escorts her outside where a gorgeous old red Mustang convertible awaits. She is, of course, charmed. "Are you taking me on a car chase through the streets of San Francisco?" she asks, but he says the car is only part of the mystery date, and opens her door. "Hmm. You're being a gentleman," she says. "Is that the special thing?" He reminds her that he always opens her door (no kidding) and she lists off a bunch of other silly stuff that could possibly be the special thing. "Take a good long look at my hair, now," she says, noting that the top is down, "because it's not going to look like this for the rest of the night." Now, that would be a special thing. Laughing, Chris tells her to buckle her seatbelt. "Buckling my seatbelt?" she says, "Is THAT the special thing?" He rolls his eyes. "Yep, that's it," he says. "You're all buckled up; date's over." Unfortunately, he's joking.