Props to Wing. And hi.
First, some background, if I may. Full day of work today. Full day of work tomorrow. Tomorrow, after aforementioned full day of work, a nighttime flight from Los Angeles to New York in a world where "nighttime flight from Los Angeles to New York" should only be uttered and subsequently undertaken by select members of the military and other thrill-seeking kamikaze members of society whose names are comprised, at least in part, by the words "Evel" and/or "Knievel." So, in an attempt to maintain some control over this very harried existence of mine, I present to you the first Roswell all-nighter in the history of MBTV. Think this show makes you cry under optimal circumstances? This show has never watched the sun rise. This show has never faced the encroaching perils of flight. This show has never run out of Red Vines at 3 AM and taken its recapper onto his balcony screaming, "This site still exists, goddammit, so where in the living hell is Webvan when I need it?" So hold onto your browser windows, people, and here's hoping that writing this recap is the only project I undertake in the next twenty-four hours that's characterized as being a "bumpy ride." Meep.
We're on the set that makes us think we're outside of the Crashdown in post-wedding darkness. The fine folks at Monogamy Inc. get a product-placed thumbs up, as the back window of a car proudly reads "Just Married" in white, soaped-on letters. Standing around the open trunk of the car are a jubilant Jesse "Yo, I Have Gots To Have Sex Tonight" Ramirez and a slightly-less-than-affable Max "At Best The Fourth Or Fifth Best Man" Evans. Max helps Jesse load a large parcel into the car. It appears to be golf clubs, and I pretty much resolve from the get-go that if those clubs don't merely function as a metaphor for Jesse's impressive wedding-night virility, this is about to become the least intriguing honeymoon in the history of televised nuptials. Max and Jesse partake in a moment of golfer/caddy mutual club handling (if you know what I mean, and Max certainly does), until Kyle "Eeny-Weeny Teeny Little Shriveled Little Short Short Man" Valenti runs up behind them and asks in a panic, "How's it going? Everything okay?" Jesse proudly sports his wood and smiles so broadly that he inhales the three iron right out of the bag, responding, "Fiiiiine." Max, his formal shirt still tucked in but the top few buttons on his tux undone, is missing only a signed contract with Chippendales and a neon sign reading "please place dollar bills here" with a blinking arrow pointing directly at his crotch. Only Kyle is still decked out in his full wedding finery, so intent is he on finding Isabel, who he learns from Max is "upstairs, changing." Kyle ditches the Town Car action and runs at twice the speed of a normal-sized boy to find her. Dude. This here isn't even a limo. I'm sure the trip to the airport will be just lovely, what with Isabel in the passenger seat glancing over her shoulder on the hunt for her long-lost alien captor, while Jesse sits in the driver's seat searching for in-car entertainment and loudly commenting, "Look, honey, it's Dorf on Golf on tape!"