When the Paolos arrive at the Smithsonian, they wander down to the dock where they're supposed to catch their boat, but they learn there that the operating hours for this bit of business don't start until 7:00 AM. Wouldn't want anyone's performance up to this point to affect how things will go for them in the rest of the leg. They settle in to sleep, lamenting how all the other teams will catch up to them. The Linzes show up, get the news, and also lament the loss of the lead. Silly teams, thinking they were participating in some sort of game of skill. Ha ha ha! Wally and the Tonyas follow.
At 9:10 PM, the second plane arrives in Panama, carrying the Goodlookskis, Gaghans, and Weavers. In the Weaver cab, they ask their driver if he speaks English, and he says, "A little." And with that, one of them pipes up, "Burrito!" Christ. He said he spoke "a little" English, moron! His Spanish is perfectly good. It's hard for me to believe how rude these people are, considering what a hissy their mother is going to throw later about manners. The other daughter adds, "Conquistador." What are they even thinking that is? Cute? Because it's really not. Rolly closes with, "El speedo." This many kids, living in Florida, and none of them knows any Spanish other than "burrito" and "conquistador"? Uch.
When the Gadzookskis arrive at the Smithsonian, they peek into what appears to be a little outbuilding and see that the rest of the teams are there, meaning that they've caught up, in a way. Inside, they chat with the rest of the teams, all of whom apparently agree to go in the order they arrived. If it were me, I'd tell them all to get bent and go park my ass right by the gate. I hate it when people race soft like this, like they can all avoid trying very hard if they agree in advance that they'll slack equally. When you have to go in order, they give you the post where you pull numbers. If there aren't numbers to be pulled, nobody can hold you to some requirement that they can go sleep inside where it's more comfortable and then have the right to go past you in the morning and move to the front. I wish that one of these teams had said, "Well, those of you who want to sleep inside can go in order, but we're going to go sleep by the gate." I would have had enormous respect for that. The Gaghans show up at the Smithsonian, then the Weavers.
The next morning, it's a lovely day in Panama as the teams prepare to get started. The teams are loaded one by one into boats. Paolos, Linzes, Bransens, Godlewskis, Gaghans, Weavers. Wally, predictably, makes a great show of physical comedy in putting on his life vest. It briefly appears he might drown in it, which I think would actually qualify as irony.