Smallville Medical Center. Home to my frequent nightmares. We hear a "ding!" as an elevator stops and Lois rushes out. Clark, wrapped in a cheesy red blanket, lags behind. Maybe it's cheesecloth. Lois pulls him out and tells him to keep up. "Why are we here?" Clark asks, "Error. Function does not compute." Lois wants to get him checked out. Clark: "I am. Fine." Clark's developing a very decent John Kerry impression. Lois diatribes that few people survive lightning strikes, and that even fewer get picked up by well-meaning strangers. Lois finds an Attending and tries to pass Clark over to the guy. Lois explains the amnesia, and tries her damnedest to get out of there as quickly as she can. The Attending tells her that until the police arrive, Clark is her responsibility. Clark wanders around, looks into a mirror, wonders why he feels like he's been here 10,000 times. As he's examining a statue of a cherub (oh God, NO!), Clark slips off his red blanket. Hey, there's a stuffed monkey holding a sign in the corner! An elderly Asian lady walks behind Lois and sees this naked man about to mount a cherub. She gasps as if she's just seen the Rosetta...er, Stone. She gives a very exaggerated up and down look. Lois smirks and tells the Attending to get Clark some clothes. The Asian lady looks like she just had quite the silent orgasm. I don’t remember who said it in the forums, but I too was reminded of Margaret Cho's mom yelling, "Ass-a-BANDITS 4!" when I saw this. They let the scene linger for a few seconds longer than is really necessary. Clark's a hit with the old ladies. We get it.
Jaunty music plays as we get a glimpse of the Eiffel Tower. Ooh, we're in Amsterdam, awesome! This song really sounds like it should have a title like "I've Got a Good Thing Going," or "We've Got Daisies in Our Pockets," or "The Children Will Bleed When We Lull Them With Clown Music then Gut Them From Toe To Sternum." It must be by the Polyphonic Squeeee! We pan over, and the street sure does look like Paris. Folks are gorgeous, a woman is painting on the sidewalk, and there are no pick-up trucks. The sign says Rue de Bastille. I just went to Paris in May, but if you're looking at me to vouch for the authenticity of the location, you've got the wrong recapper. I got lost about twelve times with all those crappy little curvy streets and "Rue de Montmartres" everywhere. My wife was ready to divorce me after I made her walk two hours looking for a tiny bistro that ended up being closed down. I will say this about Paris: it's totally, totally French. Lana Lang shoots photos with what seems, by today's standards, like a very large camera. Posters of Lex Luthor on the cover of Forbes magazine adorn a post near her. "Le Sauveur de Luthorcorp?" it asks. Lana is wearing black and even has a goth-looking ring on her left hand. I'm guessing we're supposed to believe that France has made a woman out of Lana Lang, and that the time to put aside all things pink has finally come. Oh wait. Lana's shooting a photo of two beret-wearing children of milk maids carrying matching satchels. Sigh. What are we going to do with you, Lana? Lana thanks the kiddos and starts walking down the street. Dudes whistle at her. Because there are no hot girls in Paris, apparently. Lana, distracted, bumps into a guy who looks suspiciously like Ryan Seacrest. He asks if she's American. Close. The guy, who looks too old for Lana, rambles on about his girlfriend, or rather the "not really" girlfriend he met at that exact spot two months before when he nearly clipped her with a Vespa. He bought the girlfriend something: a motorcycle helmet. He asks Lana's opinion. Lana doesn't seem impressed. He recounts how he injured himself and had to go to the hospital, and how the girl went with him and they clicked. They play around the fact that OH GOD, HE'S TALKING ABOUT LANA! Just get on with it! He alludes to the fact that she's been hurt, and that he really likes her and, oh dear Lord there's syrup coming out of the speakers on my TV. The dude says he wants to take his girl on a weekend trip to Nice, which does sound nice. Lana says that's so romantic she has to just KISS HIM! She does. A significant portion of my soul withers away like flash paper watching this. Lana agrees to go to Nice. Lana's boyfriend wishes her a happy anniversary. The expense of a crane shot is employed to show us they're really kissing on the sidewalk. Money well spent, guys.