The two last teams seem to be stuck in a traffic jam, and neither of them are too relaxed about it. There's even a shot panning from the Frat Boys' cab back along the line of stopped conveyances, the suggestion being that Kelly and Christy are only a few cars behind. "I don't know how anyone lives here," Christy says. Everyone lives here, Christy. That's exactly the problem. Finally the logjam breaks, with Team Divorced using both The Secret and prayer to try to avoid being in sixth place.
Back to Phil, alone by the mat. And the fifth place team is the Frat Boys. This time the greeter drops his hose in time to beat them to the mat (again, not that that's hard). Phil tells them that they came in second-to-last again, and they're thrilled, as usual. "Big relief," Phil remarks. I assume he means for them. "It was looking really bleak for a long time," Dan admits. And then, by nothing but dumb luck, someone took them by the hand and showed them what to do. I'd actually feel a little bitter on behalf of Team Divorced, who at least figured the problem out on the own, however belatedly, except for the fact that once again they didn't read the goddamn clue back at the Road Block.
And here they are, finally arriving on the mat. Andrew and Dan have been gone long enough that the groundskeeper has gone back to work and has to jog back up to meet them. Phil thanks him again and dismisses him, his greeting duties discharged. And Team Divorced is Philiminated. Timpani and tears are forthcoming. Kelly talks about how badly she and Christy wanted this, and how much they got out of it. Christy is more collected as she talks about how this has only solidified their BFF-hood. In their final interview, Christy talks about all she's done since leaving her ex-husband. "I would have never had this experience had I still been stuck at home ironing sheets for him." Apparently Christy's mistake was getting married in the 1950s. Kelly repeats that they'll always be each other's support system. Perhaps they should look into getting a third member who can read.
Next week: Andrew is seized by such a blinding, red-mist rage at Dan that he nearly raises his voice.
M. Giant is a Minneapolis-based writer with a wife, a son, and a number of cats that seems to have settled at around two. Learn waaaay too much about him at Velcrometer, follow him on Twitter (mgiant), or just e-mail him at M.Giant[at]gmail.com.