Setting: Madison, Wisconsin. Dane County Airport. Last week.
TICKET AGENT: Sir, you're scheduled to fly back to Los Angeles today. It's too late to change your ticket.
STEE: But it's urgent.
TICKET AGENT: I'm sorry, sir.
STEE: You don't understand.
TICKET AGENT: Please step aside.
STEE: Look. I'm on vacation, and I got someone to take over this terrible thing I have to do for me this week. Now, I'm pretty sure if I stay here in Wisconsin, I can convince her to do it one more time, and then it'll be over. It's the last one. The last one, and --
TICKET AGENT: Sir. I'm calling security.
STEE: [grabbing her by the collar] Look, lady. If you send me back there, I'm going to have to sit through Road Rules.
TICKET AGENT: [pause] Let me see what I can do.
Well, needless to say, it was too late, and here I am, sadly in town and without excuse to avoid this one last Road Rules. Yes, knowing that it's almost over makes it a bit easier. But does it necessarily make a pirate happy to know he's only going to have to walk the plank one time? See, I'm making pirate analogies. You know things are fucking bad. Let's do this shit, yo.
"Previously, on Road Rules." Msaada, driving the short bus, tells James to shut up, "seriously." James complains about the women trying to rule the group. Kathryn voice-overs that they've split right along gender lines. Shasta. Speakerphone to mission board from last week. "You all have to marry each other," says the former cast member dude whose name I don't care enough to look up. Moving blue Brady Bunch squares. Theo thinks the wedding mission is awful. "Guys, don't screw it up now, cuz this is our final mission," urges Kathryn. Kathryn has lots of urges. Last time I'll have to see this intro ever again. Baby steps, people. Baby steps. "Things are a little different." Yes they are, Road Master. This week the tears are from happiness.
On the Shasta. Voice I Don't Care About tells the Six of Suck (well, Five but that doesn't alliterate) that they've accepted their marriage mission. Graphic of Stupid. One more thing I won't miss. "Get Married In 24 Hours With A 5000 Dollar Limit." fucking camera crew will have the whole thing on tape isn't quite enough proof for them. Anything to try to beef up this lame-o and not make it look like Extreme Synchronized Swimming all over again. You know what would be a better mission? If the kids had to marry former Mission Mayors. Kathryn and Heel Cancer Boy. James and Fat Calvin. Holly and Picabo. ("Yes please," says Picabo.)