Rory is performing the essential community service of moving the needle on the record at a retirement-home dance. She compliments them on their dance moves and makes sure that no one gets too handsy with his or her dance partner. Suddenly, Logan returns from wherever the hell he's been that I don't care about. Okay, he's been in Europe with his dumb friends. He kisses her too forwardly, and one of her charges tells Rory to "watch those hands." Thus ends the cuteness of the scene. They kiss again, or something. I don't know, because I put my head in the oven.
We cut directly to a post-coital scene in the poolhouse. Rory is wearing Logan's shirt as they lounge on the living room couch under blankets. I will now recap it as fast as I can. Rory says she missed "this" while he was gone, and he says he did, too. Apparently, he and his friends didn't do too much cuddling on their trip: "It was mostly hand-holding." I refuse to laugh. Also, I refuse to be at all charmed by his story of their activities at the Gloucestershire Cheese Rolling Festival, at which Logan sustained an injury. Oh, those crazy Brits, how I love them. Logan goes on to say that Colin fell in love with an actual milkmaid who had an actual cow and pails, and has been holed up with her ever since, they haven't heard a word from him and wonder if he'll even be back in time to start...uh.... Logan stops, like an ass, sighing dramatically and saying he doesn't want to bum Rory out by mentioning school. That's dumb, and she says so, insisting that she's fine with the whole thing: "Yale was a wonderful chapter in my life, but I've moved on." She says it pretty convincingly, which blows my mind as well as Logan's. He doesn't believe her, but she still insists that hearing about school doesn't bother her. He says fine, and since she's so cool with it, invites her to come over to school tomorrow to see his new apartment and have lunch. She can't, she says. She has her DAR induction luncheon, but agrees to go to breakfast instead. Logan does not bother pointing out how depressing that is.
Hep Alien is filling the gas tank for the journey home. They are impatient and crammed into the van. Brian has a cymbal stand in his pancreas. Lane tells them to calm down; they are only an hour away from home, and to hang in there. They're all hungry, so Lane tells Gil to hurry with the gas and they head out on the highway. "Everybody," Gil says as he starts the van, "lean forward." When they get on the road, Lane asks where he put the map. He waves vaguely toward the door, and she asks if he's okay to drive. "Yeah, I just...uh...." pfTL tells Gil not to do that thing where he doesn't finish his sentences. Gil says he's just weak from hunger: "The guy I got gas from? I was talking to him and he suddenly turned into a giant turkey leg." Lane tells them to think positive thoughts, and asks what they'll each do when they're finally home. "Wash my hair," Gil says, "hug my kids, set 'em up in front of a Harry Potter movie and then do my wife for like, an hour." How the rest of them can keep from laughing every time he talks, I don't know, because the dude kills me. Lane has a surprise. She's been scrimping and saving all through the tour -- practically starving them -- because she wanted them to come out of this tour with something. Well, it worked, she says, even if she had to fib a little along the way, because they came out ahead with (somehow) $9,000. They guys are, at first, less than thrilled. "We haven't eaten a full meal in over two months," pfTL cries. Brian had to give up brushing his teeth, and Gil washed his hair with bar soap. They don't get it, Lane says. With $9,000, they can record. Nirvana, for example, made Bleach for $600. This changes their minds. They get excited about recording, but Gil is still so tired he can't talk. "Then just drive, Gil," Lane says. "Thirty miles. Thirty miles to home." We cut away on that note, and it's a tad weird, making me wonder if there isn't some foreshadowing here, and something bad is going to happen to the band. If so, I will be in a rage. Taking Sebastian Bach away from me will make the children cry. (Wait a second, did he even sing that song about the children crying? I don't think so. But does it matter?)