Previously on Racer? I Hardly Even Know 'Er!: the exhausted population of Thailand, led by its taxi drivers' union, gently told Bruckheimer and Van Munster that they couldn't stay in town forever, so the teams headed for Hong Kong. A good ferry was hard to find, and a bad cup of tea was even harder. Wil and Tara bickered incessantly, which came as a genuine shock to the segment of the viewing audience that had spent the last six weeks watching something else. Tara plunked her fanny on Chris's knee, but it was Alex's lap that was in her heart. (Schematic anatomical diagram not included.) Gary and Dave yelled at each other about plane reservations, but they bagged on the first task, snagged the Fast Forward, tagged the pit stop first, and bragged that they are now in possession of "the big mo'." Meanwhile, after she and Mary made a couple of critical mistakes, Peach hit the wall and couldn't go any farther, so the sisters were sadly Phil-iminated, and they didn't even get to make use of their cute little hard hats. Who will be eliminated tonight?
Credits. Turn to page 108 of your hymnals: "Blake! And! Paige! Their teeth are all! The! Rage! And Wil and Ta-ra fight! Here every Wed-nesday night! Ga-ry's jokes! Can fall and crush! Old! Folks! But Dave's all right!...Alex...and Chris...which one...is this?...Dan-ny...doesn't smell! Oswald is clean! As! Well! Cha-Cha-Cha! [BOMP.]"
Commercials. I am so sick of Spider-Man already, with the web and the wrists and the evil counterpart and the red-haired one-dimensional cartoon girlfriend and the full head mask...I mean, the movie isn't even out yet, and already he's selling me cellular phone service? Help me, Obi-Wan, you're my only hope.
The drunken cameramen are apparently on suspension for their previous misdeeds, because a surprisingly serene set of establishing shots settle us softly in bustling Hong Kong, which Phil and his all-black attire inform us is a large city indeed. The teams are parked on a Chinese junk in the harbor, and we are not really treated to much of an Eat, Sleep, and Mingle segment this week. Perhaps space was tight and they've thus been dangling from the sides of the boat from ropes during the pit stop, which would leave little time for socializing. We don't even get a random shot of shirtless Blake, although we do get a bizarre glimpse of Tara sticking her tongue out. Man, society really is in a downward spiral. At any rate, in case you don't recall it from one of the previous twenty consecutive episodes in which this has been explained to you, Phil would like you to know that the teams have no idea what's in store for them, and they will have to figure out the route markers, blah blah blah. They've tweaked the visuals on this segment for some reason, and now when Phil says "route marker" right before the Exposition Hands appear, we just see a billowing standard yellow-and-red flag instead of the annoying split-screen, MTV-circa-1987 effect they've been using where one flag divides itself into three. Maybe these subtle changes are an effort to keep me on my toes -- all relationships need occasional spicing up, you know, or I'll start cheating on Bruckheimer with Bernie Mac. Well, actually, I won't, but the point is that I could. Hey, where was I again? Oh, right. Phil wonders aloud whether Oswald and Danny's isolation strategy will work, and he frets about the future of the Adultery Alliance.