"Let's go for the Fast Forward," Chuck says in the boat, so that Millie doesn't hurt him. They bail on the boats and scoot.

Elsewhere in Amsterdam, at 12:54 PM, the last flight is finally dragging into town carrying David and Jeff ("Whoooo?") and AirSteve and Dave. They all grab a train.

ClownJon and Al are driving through very green fields, looking for the manure ranch. They finally reach the flag, and before you know it, they are "woo hoo"-ing as they run up the path. As they reach the manure pile, ClownJon says to someone, "Where's the pile, man?" He hesitates, looks at the pile, and says, "Don't tell me that's the pile, man." Because fifteen feet of manure, it turns out, is kind of a lot. Not only that, but this is no stagnant manure pile. They're actually continually dropping a fresh supply on top of it, just in case it starts to get stale or anything. The last thing you want is for your poo to go bad. The clowns don white zip-up suits and boots, but as promised, their hands are left free. "You look ridiculous, man," ClownJon pot-kettles as Al walks toward the pile ahead of him. As they muck through a smaller preliminary pile, they decide that "that's not cool," so they'll go around and approach the pile from the other side. No need to get more on you than necessary, I suppose.