As morning comes and their early morning ride draws to a close, Alex says that he and Chris are going to find a phone, so that they can call ahead and get started finding flights. Boston arrives in Glendambo, and Phil explains that their next job is to drive themselves to the local airstrip and catch a 10:30 or an 11:15 charter flight to Adelaide to start the trip to Queenstown. Boston finds out that the airport is only a few minutes down the road, so they have time to get on the phone and work on flights before they take off. Alex starts his phone call like this: "Hi, this is my predicament…" It appears that he merely goes on to say that he needs to fly from Adelaide to Queenstown. For a minute, I thought he was going to say, "Here's my predicament -- I'm involved with this woman, and she has this nasty-ass husband with painfully bad hair, and we're in competition for a million dollars, and there are all these TV cameras…" I sort of wish he had. The news on airline tickets isn't so good -- Alex passes along to Chris that, apparently, there's no way to get the flights done until the next day. "No one's gettin' to New Zealand tonight," he says. Doesn't that sound like a line from a terribly exciting movie of the week? "You'd better call out the Air Force, Mr. President -- no one's getting to New Zealand tonight." Okay, so it wouldn't be that exciting.
As they wait around by the phones at the Mobil station (which is actually a big oasis called the Glendambo Roadhouse, complete with restaurant and so forth), Boston spots two more teams arriving. The Teeth and Taraweasel unload their SUVs. Taraweasel runs up to Boston, all agitated to get to the airport. Tara is clearly surprised that Boston is just standing around at the Roadhouse, given that there are these limited-seat charters to Adelaide leaving forty-five minutes apart. She wonders if they don't understand about the charters. "You have to go sit in your seat, or you don't get a seat," Tara tells Chris, who responds that it makes no difference whether they fly to Adelaide at 10:30 or 11:15, because there are no flights out until the next day anyway. Blake runs up to the group just as Tara and Chris are walking away, and Wil hands him the news: "Doesn't matter, dude, we're not getting in till tomorrow."
Blake goes into the Roadhouse and asks for directions to the airstrip. As the guy gives them to him, he makes little directional hand gestures, and Blake sort of mimics them the whole time, which just looks very funny, like watching somebody's lips move when they read. Once they've secured the directions, the Teeth run out and hop in their SUV and take off, which provokes Wil and Tara to roar into action behind them. Wil's hair is reaching truly crazed proportions right about now -- it's like it's a metaphor for his mental stability. He and Tara bicker about where the airstrip is. Wil thinks it's on the road that runs right by the Roadhouse, but Tara says -- very snottily, I might add -- "I asked Chris and Alex, and they said it was on the main road." "This is the main road," Wil grumps. Tara gives in, and they take off in the same direction as the Teeth. Chris, seeing Taraweasel leave, shrugs it off. "They can sit on the plane three hours for something that doesn't matter." He, apparently, would rather stand by a phone booth for three hours, because that definitely matters. Oh, and Chris? Take off that bandanna you've got tied around your head. Your head and Chachi's leg should not be similarly attired. This is a bad sign.