Over at Logan's, Rory is all suited up for her NYT coffee meeting, and is about to leave when she takes another stab at rousing Logan with aspirin. She's awfully cute to him, considering his dickish behavior of the night before, but when she tells him that his dad's secretary has called three times in the last hour, and he won't tell her what about, she gets testy. Quickly, Rory reminds Logan that she needs him to be ready to leave for Lane's shower the moment she returns: "And I'm gonna need you to drive because I'll have to change in the back, Dirty Dancing-style." When the phone rings again and Logan snaps at her to leave it, Rory turns and leaves.
I can't even explain to you why guns are not drawn in this scene. I can't even recap the words that are spoken -- something about how Liz and T.J. really need the space in their garage to store beads and stuff -- because it's ludicrous to me that it wasn't resolved with punches. Luke's listens to them not explain their rationale for selling his boat out from under him with heretofore unseen calm, just sighing and saying he'll just find another place to store it. Liz rolls her eyes, asking him why in the world he's hanging on to the boat at all, saying that their dad spent twenty years working on the boat; now Luke has spent another twenty. "So?" Luke asks, defensive. "So," says Liz, in a rare moment of lucidity, "how many more generations are going to cart this thing around town? Get rid of it for your own sake before you end up like Dad." Luke gets pissed, aggressively asking what she means. He says that their dad was happy working on the boat, but Liz insists that the man was stuck: "Dad didn't do stuff because it made him happy. He did stuff because he was afraid to do anything else." Luke's feelings are hurt, but he seems to be listening to Liz -- which must be weird, seeing as how she rarely says anything that makes sense. However, after a moment, Luke crosses his arms: "My boat, my decision. I'm not selling it."
Rory is at a café, waiting on the Times dude. Unfortunately, she has never met him, and he only described himself as bald. Surrounded by bald guys, she calls her mother in frustration: "How bald do you have to be to be bald?" Lorelai says that, in her experience, if a man describes himself as bald, there is nary a hair on his head. So true. Rory says the problem is that she hadn't realized that New York City is the Bald Guy Capital of the World, and thus she is having to just smile vaguely at every bald man who comes through the door. "Let me guess," says Lorelai. "They're all smiling back." Rory's all stressed, and rapid-fire explains that she's sitting down but doesn't know if she should be, but that this lady gave up her table and Rory got it, but now she wants coffee, etc. "Keep the table," Lorelai advises, "but, uh, when he gets there, go decaf." Heee. Rory says that she's just nervous -- this meeting has such high stakes: "It could mean the difference between interviewing world leaders, and standing on street corners with pictures of celebrities in matching outfits asking passersby who wore it best." She asks Lorelai to ask how the shower planning is going. "Uh..." says Lorelai, about to walk back into Mrs. Kim's. Rory freaks anew, panicking that her second pancake will suck, too. "I've got it all under control," Lorelai assures her. "You just focus on finding the right bald guy." Rory: "Oh, another one just walked in. Stand by while I attempt to make eye contact." Lorelai: "Look at it this way: you are making a lot of bald men feel very good about themselves today." It's true -- when Rory smiles at the one who just walked in, he gives her a repugnant eyebrow raise complete with finger guns. Ew!