Back on The Millie and Chuck Boat of Misery. "Let me make sure we're going the right way," Chuck says, "or this is useless." "Please go, Chuck," Millie says, with substantial dollops of disgust and contempt. Sigh.
Eiffel Tower! Arc de Triomphe! We must be in the Little France section of Amsterdam. Oh, no, wait. We're in actual Paris, where The Taxi Ride Of Not On Your Life, Buddy continues. David and Jeff note in their cab that it's now five minutes before the flight leaves, and although they fail to complete the thought, the rest of it is, "So, yeah. Not gonna happen." Both teams go inside -- Jeff and David hustling, AirSteve and Dave strolling, of course -- and the plane is indeed gone. (This is where I think you can hear David say, "The 10:15's gone." So that's why I'm confused by previous comment about trying to get to the airport by ten after nine.)
Commercials. You know, Grandpa, if you need Verizon Wireless to ever have a chance to talk to anyone, it might be because you are wearing an apron with a tuxedo printed on it. Like, ha ha ha. Normal people don't want to stand next to you. Take a hint.
After a little Parisian careening, we return to the Charles de Gaulle airport in Paris, where AirSteve and Dave and Jeff and David have found themselves stranded without a connection to Amsterdam. Both teams manage to get tickets on KLM, which I am obligated to hate because it is affiliated with Northwest Airlines, which I still haven't forgiven for losing my luggage two Christmases ago because the lady at the counter simply assumed that my bag should be sent to the same destination as the guy who was in line in front of me. We figured this out while I was still standing right there at the ticket counter, but it was too late to get my bag back and re-tag it, because it had disappeared into Luggageland, which is a black void to which mere mortals have no access. Now, not only was this a disgusting reinforcement of sexist stereotypes, but -- please, like I would have been traveling with that guy. Anyway, they sent my bag off with him, forcing me to learn the warm holiday lesson that it is truly better to receive than to give. "Thanks for the gift! I got you -- nothing, actually." Where was I? Oh, right. KLM. Anyway, this KLM flight is leaving at 11:45 AM, so it looks like they lost an hour and a half or so. Finally, their plane takes off, and we've cleared everybody out of Paris at last. On the flight, Jeff's voice says that they need to hustle. It doesn't really sound voice-over-like, but his lips aren't moving either. Maybe he's a ventriloquist, and he's making it come out of his backpack. Now that would be a personality! Talking-Backpack Guy! I would totally watch him.
Millie and Chuck are still floating around, looking for the museum. Behind them are Kelly and Jon, and Kelly takes this moment to explain in an interview why she refers to Chuck and Millie as "the werewolf and Millie the Mole." She explains that Jon keeps looking at Millie and going "molemolemolemole," which I didn't know was an Austin Powers reference until someone told me, because I am increasingly the least hip person on the planet, with the possible exception of Tom DeLay. They call Chuck "werewolf" because although he's "very handsome," as Kelly explains it, the way his mouth twitches reminds her of "second stage werewolf," which is...sort of true, and substantially funnier than calling a girl with a mole "Millie the Mole," which really isn't funny at all. Of course, if I got too morally outraged at them for being catty, I think the bolt of lightning that would strike me would take out my entire apartment complex, which does house an admittedly small number of inoffensive people whom I would hate to see fried like pork rinds, so I'm going to leave it at an eye-rolling but understanding "tsk."