Train station. Guidos, getting their tickets for the train that doesn't leave for six hours. Hee. Bill says the worst-case scenario is that there are two teams ahead of them. Oh, BURN! Phil explains that once they make it to Bikaner on the train, teams will have to get to the temple of rats, where they'll have to walk through the rats to get the clue. Theme of this segment? Oh, it's rats. Did you notice? Loud Pushy Frank tells the other teams on the train that something he's reading has the skinny on the temple, and he fills them in on the rodent situation. "I ain't goin'," Drew says immediately, half-through the bandanna around his face. "I ain't goin'." Drew goes on to tell a story about stepping on a tire in New York and being swarmed with rats. Rob protests that Drew's past bad experiences were with rats who "aren't sacred rats. No problem." Margarita: "They aren't sacred, religious rats." Drew: "A rat is a rat is a rat!" Have I mentioned that one of the reasons it's a funny Esquire week is that now Rob is combining the MMSSSSI, a bandanna around his neck, and the BLUE MUPPET-BAND SUNGLASSES? I am SO going to sic Joan Rivers on him. (The fact that he still looks cute because he's smiling for once is perhaps the cruelest irony of all, so I'm choosing to ignore it. I have plenty to make my head hurt.)
As they yak about the rats, Margarita utters the words "Joe and Bill." This sets off universal and immediate hilarity as the other teams ponder the image of the Guidos running through a roomful of rats. Margarita is laughing hysterically, Frank is laughing hysterically, Rob is laughing hysterically, and Brennan is doing a kind of "Eeeeeee!" Guido-impression which, while not so precise in the sense that I think the Guidos would be APPALLED rather than terrified, still made me laugh. What can I say? I don't think he's picking on them because they're gay. I think he's picking on them because they're prissy, and not all gay men are prissy, and not all prissy men are gay, but prissy men are prissy men, and a world in which you can't mock prissy men (or prissy women, for that matter) is a world not worth living in. End of lecture. Furthermore, how cool is it to see these three teams hanging out together? I'm all for hatchet-burying.
"You can do it?" Frank asks, in reference to the rats. "That's my girl! All right!" They low-five, and you know what? I give. I still don't like the shoving, but I give. There's no Frank love, but I declare my…neutrality.