Previously on Thrilla With-a Phil-a: The sun came up. From Krabi, Thailand, the teams went to Pai Plong Beach, via mountains, water, and a big chicken. Anti-bunching gave us two lead teams -- Danza and Esquire -- and two trailing teams -- Guidos and Frats -- separated by what was eventually a time difference of about eighteen hours. Rob grunted, "Huuh!" but then he hurt his finger. Margarita despaired, "My legs are shaking!" but then she climbed the mountain. The Esquire transportation curse continued, and spread from land to sea. Bill and Joe pondered whether the world has ever known anything as wonderful as they are, Frank and Margarita frolicked in flowered fields while the strains of Some Enchanted Evening swelled in the background, and Drew and Kevin debated who had the more burdensome ass. Tonight? The brawl for it all (tm Kevin).
Credits. Music from the upcoming boxing/needlepoint film, Now THAT'S What I Call Hitting The Canvas!.
Commercials. Go to JC Penney, eat chocolate, and shop. You're too rich and too thin.
This week, the cameramen have mixed their usual vodka tonics with entire boxes of Dexatrim, and they are therefore motivated to jerk even more violently than usual from one scene to another. I had trouble seeing this sequence through the violent seizure it induced, but it goes something like this: beach, sun, boats, sun, trees, truck, trees, sun, statue, water, sun disappearing and reappearing, guy bowing and praying, beach, statue, sun, statue, sun, statue, sun, sun, sun, mountains and beach, beach, boats. I'm not kidding. I'm concerned that the cameramen are high, and if they are, that the editors are their dealers.
Phil tells us that we are at Pai Plong Beach. Damn, that's a fine-looking beach, certainly one of the better pit stop locations. (Between this and The Tiger Cave Temple Of Plush Pillows, we're getting some very nice scenery lately.) Shots of the teams arriving. And now, ladies and gentlemen, settle back with your popcorn and enjoy Phil's famous yellow-and-white-route-markers, clues-in-sealed-envelopes speech, accompanied by the mesmerizing sight of The Soft And Sweetly Loving Hands Of Rule-Related Exposition. I guess last week's failure to provide this crucial information was just a fluke. Van Munster is worried about the latecomers, and the possibility that they're confused. Someone, incidentally, has got to tell me who the Exposition Hands are. Please. It's killing me. Are you the Exposition Hands? Call me. We'll have lunch. I'll just watch adoringly while you salt my food.
Anyway, Phil tells us that this is the last leg to end in an elimination, and then the three last teams will just race for the finish line. Shot of Danza and Esquire standing on the beach as Phil exposits yet again that these two teams are ahead. Phil? I am visibly aging here. Can we move along? Incidentally, Phil says that the Guidos and the Frats will be at the pit stop long after Esquire and Danza leave -- he fails to mention that the Guidos and the Frats appear to have not even arrived until long after Danza and Esquire left. Phil attempts to build suspense by wondering aloud whether the trailing teams can catch up with the leaders, but his efforts are undercut by how utterly ridiculous he looks in the rolled-up pant-legs and the bare feet. Sucks to be washed up on the beach in paradise with nothing but your beige button-down shirt and your brown pants. Where's Phil's Hawaiian shirt? Where are Phil's devil-may-care denim cutoffs? Everybody else gets to swim, but Phil's mom only lets him go wading.