The four friends are out to dinner, dressed to the nines. Carrie announces that she's going to San Francisco for a book tour. By definition, a tour includes more than one city, so Carrie, once again, is kidding herself. She says she's "very big in San Francisco," and Mir leans in and says, "You mean, Big is in San Francisco." By way of Napa Valley, but whatever. Carrie says she needs to get laid, badly. She's been having dreams where she "runs up to complete strangers and just starts kissing them." Wow, how spicy. Good thing this is on cable! Mir says that if Carrie wants to get laid so badly, she doesn't have to go across the country; she can just go across the restaurant, where a table of four handsome guys are rubbernecking in the girl's direction. Char says, "Cute, cute, cute!" She has on the cutest (Michael Kors?) cut-out suede aqua top. Sam looks and says, "Boring, boring, and boring. Just like these scallops." She pushes her plate away and picks up her martini. Dude, scallops are a wild card. Once I ordered scallops and they came out gritty, like day-at-the-beach gritty. Riding your bike behind a city bus gritty. NYPD Blue gritty. It was criminal.
Carrie suggests that perhaps Sam is "suffering a been-there done-that existential crisis." Could be. Sam says it isn't her, it's New York: "They should change the name to Same York." Mir takes a bite of Sam's rejected scallops and says they're fantastic, and that the guys are cute, too. Carrie says she doesn't care; she just wants one of them to lie on top of her for a while. She "needs to feel the weight of a man on [her]." Two words for you, Car: Louis. Leroy. Three more for you: Never on top? Of course, Carrie probably only does it lying on her back. Louis Leroy was hot, he was a man, he wanted you, and you. Walked. Away. Told you so. You probably could have banged Berger, too, but your stupid standards got in the way of that one. And P.S.: Vibrators give you orgasms. If it's "weight" you're after, might I suggest a big dog, or one of those long pillows? Miranda says it's too bad women can't hire male prostitutes. Sam says, "Women do." Carrie says that's "only in bad screenplays and first novels." Yeah, that's what they want us to think. Women wanting sex on demand? And paying for it? It's just tacky and base! Oh, fuck you. I say put brothels on every corner and be done with it. See, I have more sex-positive ideas, like Sam. If you want, cruise over to my website and read about them there.
Sam and Miranda, the practical ones, have an idea for cool brothels. Mir calls it "an incredible investment plan!" and wants to put them on every corner. Sam says, "Starfucks." Yup. Char says that "a place like that doesn't exist because women don't think of sex like that, we don't' have that animal instinct, we need to feel things -- isn't that right, Carrie?" Oh, Char, grow the fuck up. Isn't she thirty yet? Hasn't she noticed a change in her sex drive at all? Carrie says Big is her "male prostitute," and that "relief is just a train ride away." She's taking a train to California? What a dumb idea. But post-9/11, I guess we're all still supposed to be scared shitless of flying and want to go backwards in time and, you know, add two days' travel time to our business/getting laid trip. Except not. Carrie says it'll be fun, especially if Sam comes with. "Oh, come on, two girls on a train! It'll be very Some Like It Hot!" That was over forty years ago, and Jack Lemmon and Tony Curtis were running from the Mob. And in drag. This scenario would have potential if it were a Sopranos cross-over, and if there were a drag king band traveling to San Francisco. But it isn't, and therefore will suck. Carrie tries to bribe Sam by saying they'll stay in a "luxury suite in a four-star San Francisco hotel." Oh, no hotel plugs for San Francisco? That's cold, man. Sam asks what time they leave "Same York." Carrie says yay and sing-songs that "[she's] gonna get laaa-aid, [she's] gonna get laaa-aid." Then will she shut uuu-uuup? Good.