Previously on Hey! It's That Uruguay!: The race exploded out of the gate at the Santa Monica Pier, complete with an opening injury that sent the valiant Jim to the hospital for 25 stitches, making him the first contestant to actually address the problem of being totally lame. When the flights out of LAX behaved unpredictably, there was some unexpected shuffling of the early leaders and early stragglers. Charla and Mirna were shocked that no one would help them win, while Dennis and Erika tried to nurture their early alliances to the point of ill-advised taxi sacrifices. Reading comprehension emerged as an acute problem, even more than being bitchy, which, on second thought, is more of a chronic ailment. The twin vices of meat and gambling went hand in hand as the teams made their way to the first pit stop, where the horrible Alison and Donny finished first and the far more pleasant Erika and Dennis took it on the chin. Who will be eliminated...next? Oh, so they're going to be cagey, apparently.
Credits. Somebody has got to do away with those turn-to-the-camera shots. Those are horrible.
Serious drunken careening kicks things off this week as we fly like bats out of hell around Uruguay, which Phil reminds the non-atlas-owners among us is "on the east coast of South America." We zero in on Casa Pueblo, which Phil calls a "unique homestead built into the landscape by a local artist." I have to say, it's a good thing Styrofoam takeout containers didn't go out of style before the local artist responsible for this unique homestead had a chance to collect a few hundred thousand of them and melt them down, because otherwise, this effect would be hard to achieve. Phil reminds us that the Chlorofluorocarbon Palace was the first pit stop. Acoustic guitars kick in as we revisit the arrivals of last week, beginning with Alison and Donny (boooo!), and Phil explains that the "mandatory rest period" allows teams to -- that's right -- "eat, sleep, and mingle." In E/S/M news, it's interesting to see that Chip and Kami/Karli were apparently getting along fine at this point, anyway. Hating takes time to mature, but I'm telling you, once it gets going, it mellows like good cheese. After a dizzying blast of staccato shots, Phil speculates about whether Jim's knee injury will slow his team down, and whether Alison and Donny's obnoxious bickering will have any ill effects other than making the entire viewing audience want to paint them with Karo syrup and leave them chained together on an anthill, doomed to be relentlessly nibbled until they are reduced to a pair of skeletons, which would undoubtedly spend eternity blaming each other for how skinny they've gotten.