Previously on Mama Said There'd Be Diesel Like This: It was really dark. Oh, no. That's just brief technical difficulties at the beginning of the previouslys. What really previously happened is that Firecop stuck to the Band of Brothers like Krazy Glue as the teams made their way out of Portugal. Rappelling down a cliff made Flo complain, made Arianne say, "Wooo!", and made Ian a grouchy, mean bastard. So, pretty much status quo there. FloZach, Teri and the Hat, Aahab, and Mike and Kathy all put unleaded in their diesel vehicles, which made the vehicles swoon and fan themselves delicately like overheated southern belles at a garden party. And then it made the vehicles pass out flat on their faces, like those same southern belles after they go to college. In response to this crisis, in decreasing order of DGQ (Displayed Gumption Quotient), Teri and the Hat dumped their gas on the ground and refilled their tank (DGQ=84), FloZach got their car to the world's only overnight auto repair shop and had it fixed (DGQ=68), Aahab rustled up law enforcement and the much maligned insurance industry for a rescue (DGQ=28), and Mike and Kathy decided to take the night off and kick back in a hotel (DGQ=6). No hurry, after all. When it was all over, Ken and Gerard landed on the mat first again ("YAAY!"), and although Aahab struggled, they were out-sucked by Michael and Kathy, who proved once again that no matter how the game may change, giving yourself the night off is quite reliably a bad idea. "Who will be eliminated..." The Democratic Party is declared dead four times. "...tonight?"
Credits. Approximately 100,000 people are injured in ATV accidents every year. On November 16, 2002, Toronto was host to the International Rock-Paper-Scissors Championships, sponsored by the World Rock-Paper-Scissors Society. Morocco is the world's largest exporter of escargot. The Palmerie is home to some of the best golf in Morocco. According to the official home page of the Riad Catalina, as automatically translated by Babelfish, "[Riad Catalina] reveals us, in addition to its charms where all is made with love and passion, its twelve rooms and its three continuations (of which some with private terrace) and a swimming pool with unspoilable view on Koutoubia and the mountainous chain of the Atlas." [BOMP.]
The cameramen apparently took the week off from careening, but the editors are washing down diet pills with triple espressos, so it's a pile of slam-cuts rather than the usual unhinged zooming and panning. Phil reminds everyone who became distracted by the sparkly outfits at the Country Music Awards last week that we are in Fez, Morocco. Incidentally, however wrong it is to picture Howard Cunningham in his Leopard Lodge hat every single time they say "Fez," that's how wrong I am. But anyway, Fez [Howard Cunningham]. More specifically, we are at the lovely Borj Nord, yet another Big Castle in this year's Big Castle Boogaloo. And here is Phil now, looking very skinny in his blue button-down shirt. Either the shirt naturally emphasizes the "lanky" in "lanky Kiwi stud muffin," or he's getting ready for swimsuit season. He also looks a little leathery. He has that delicate Southern hemisphere complexion, so they do need to be sure they keep him in Coppertone. At any rate, teams have to figure everything out for themselves (well, except for Firecop) from the clues in the sealed envelopes, and then we see the Exposition Hands on speed and so on. Phil wonders aloud about the fate of the Band of Brothers alliance, as well as Teri and the Hat's chances of avoiding elimination yet again. He points out that they're the coldest team to ever reach the sixth leg. Oh, wait. He said "oldest team." Okay, that too, I guess.
4:31 AM. Ken and Gerard. They rip open the clue, which directs them to drive to the Hussan II Mosque in Casablanca. And I'm just going to tell you right now that I am foregoing all Casablanca jokes. There will be nothing about Sam, nothing about beginnings of beautiful friendships, nothing about rounding up the usual suspects, and nothing about regretting it soon and for the rest of your life. I just can't do it. When they hand me jokes, I feel cheapened in some way. I'm no organ-grinder's monkey. At any rate, they're only getting fifty bucks for this leg, so they'd better not go spending it all on candy and magazines. Over the thwacka-wacka highway travel music, Phil phills in that the drive from Fez to Casablanca is about 150 miles, although I feel compelled to note that Phil's distances have sometimes turned out to be highly suspect, so it appears it could be anywhere between fifty miles and 300 or so without Phil worrying too much over his accuracy. He says that when they get to Casablanca, the teams will have to find their way to the mosque, which is apparently the second-largest religious monument in the world after Mecca. (Or, as Phil's accent would say, "Mecc-er.") Hypnotic camera-wiggling ensues as we are introduced to the mosque. Back at the starting line, as Ken and Gerard get into their car in the dark, Gerard voices over that they need to "stay sharp." Right on cue, he closes the back of the SUV all wrong and winds up bonking the doors together. "Oh, that's good," he scolds himself. Heh. Ken and Gerard decide that the best way to get directions to where they need to go is to flag down a taxi, which turns out to be no small task at 4:30 in the morning.