Ray and Yolanda arrive. They run down the pier, they paddle, and they land. They're in last place, of course, but there's no elimination. There is, however, the taking of all of their money and all their stuff, so that we can squeeze in a little more begging before we reach the point of any relevance. They could spend the last ten minutes of this finale having the screen spout cash directly into my purse, and it still wouldn't be worth what a chore the rest of this feels like. Phil points out that being in a country where they don't speak the language and need to beg for money will not be an easy way to start. Yolanda tells us that they won't get discouraged, and Ray says they're good at being underdogs, and he's sure they can win it. Phil promises that we will soon find out who's going to win. I certainly freaking hope so.
After some more commercials, we are back at Lake Yamanaka at the base of Mount Fuji, and we are at the Big Swan, which is the big boat where the previous leg concluded. What's a leg of a race without a form of transportation shaped like a big animal? Ride the Lemur Train! We watch the teams eat together as Phil explains that this will be it. The million-dollar leg. Well, the million-dollar tenth of a leg, which will not be happening until later.
12:18 AM. BJ and Tyler depart. They open the clue, which tells them to fly to Anchorage, Alaska. Polar bears! Phil explains that they will choose a marked car and get their next clue. BJ and Tyler, as they're leaving, drop off money for Ray and Yolanda. So fucking lame, this entire money-trading nonsense. Tyler tells us that he and BJ have been training for this leg of the race "for [their] entire lives." In terms of that referring to the part about being on television, I certainly believe it. I certainly believe they have trained their whole lives to get as much attention as they're getting right now. Tyler tells us that they approach life with "wide-eyed enthusiasm and joy." Okay. You cannot declare yourself to have "wide-eyed enthusiasm." It's like naming yourself "the Cut Man." You can't. Someone else has to comment on your "wide-eyed enthusiasm." You just cannot, under any circumstances, call yourself "wide-eyed"; that is so patently phony. That's how you just know that this is all bullshit -- not that it isn't how they act off-camera, because believe me, it is, but that it's done for effect, to make people look at them and like them and think they're nifty. As I've said before, I think it's like Robin Williams. People reach a point where they're no longer themselves; they're constantly playing themselves in a big lifelong show about themselves. And because they are characters of their own devising, they have that weird tendency to comment on themselves as characters, referring to their "wide-eyed enthusiasm" as if they're commenting on someone else. It's fucked up.