Team Pink has a future flat-tracker for a cab driver. He speeds crazily down the road, psyched to be in a race, even if the other two teams aren't even in sight. Courtland asks whether he "races caahs for a living." Oleg, Russian cab driver, says that he "never knew such a people exist in the world [sic]." Such a lazy people, happy to take advantage of others' good nature? Sure. They're called "Americans."
The Blondes meet some Mormon missionaries (none of whom were ever on The Real World New Orleans), and learn that (a) they barely have enough money for a bus, and (b), you don't just casually lay your hands on Mormon missionaries. Why are they letting missionaries negotiate for them? And do you bet they feel skanky after all their hooking and bikini talk now? The missionaries totally blow them off. Wow, if people on a mission don't want to help the Blondes, they are so screwed. What did they do to piss off God? Don't answer that.
Carla, "ruthless and shameless," begs guys on the train for money. They give it to her. Whatever.
Oleg the cab driver tells Team Pink to ask Oleg's boss for money. His name is Mr. Oh. That's "O-H." Oleg and Mr. Oh both speak English. Joe makes an impassioned, nasal speech for cash to the inscrutable Mr. Oh. He actually says "on bended knee," though he is, in fact, seated in a chair. Can he and Courtland clean the office? They're "not just looking for a handout." Dude, what about your porn-star plan? I want to see the Siberian gay bars. I think we all do. Dickla's Bar, on the corner of Third and Romanov Streets. Mr. Oh grimly takes out his wallet and hands over $200! Holy shit, I am amazed at the generosity of these people. Is it the cameras? Are they all Buddhists? I love that the Mormons were like, "See ya," but this impassive taxi-driver manager guy just hands over a wad of cash. Mormons 0, Mr. Oh 1,000. Oleg high-fives Team Pink. Now, take them to a gay bar!
Tami cries. "In a place where poverty reigns, Tami doesn't see the sport in begging." Good eye. Too bad no one else noticed. She sniffles and snuffles and says that she "is so ashamed to be an American right now." Tami? Me too. How insignificant is all of this? Shut up, me.
Joe and Courtland haven't gotten anywhere, but are hanging out with a posse of Russians and, Voice-Over Guy booms, "learning about the local liquid culture." "Local liquid culture"? WTF? Does he mean sea-monkeys? They're hanging out in a restaurtant, or cultural center, listinging to some Siberian opera with a bunch of Russian ladies. Hardly a gay bar. The locals love Team Pink, and Team Pink loves them right back. Much drinking ensues. Not by them, by me.