"Be Respected," says this week's black screen motto. Trump tells us that leadership is "hard to define." For some reason, we see him walk out of a building and greet overeager strangers, and I'm not sure what that has to do with leadership, but okay. He says that the common trait in good leaders, however, is "respect." So make a note -- the way you earn respect is by being famous so that people you don't know will want to have their picture taken with you.

The Apex alarm clocks go off at 6:00, or so it appears. "Half an hour, we're out the door," Jenn says as she rouses her troops. As she recaps the Zagat aspect of the task, Wes...is still sleeping. The women are stumbling around in a stupor, including Ivana, who really doesn't need to show off quite that much of her black underwear at the top of her pajama bottoms. I mean, truly. I see London, France, and a good swath of the Iberian peninsula, so pull up your damn pants, sister. Sandy complains in an interview about seeing the guys get decent sleep when she doesn't. As Kelly relaxes with his gel and his hair at the mirror, the women are already snapping at each other like exotic fighting turtles on their way out the door. Maria is dragging a suitcase, probably containing her Vest of Disdain, her Kicky Skirt of Blame-Shifting, her Mink Stole of Eye-Rolling Impatience, and her Slingbacks of Being Dead Meat With A Really Limited Shelf Life And Not Realizing It.

At the Apex restaurant, Ivana and Stacy go outside to meet up with a truck, to which they call out, "Are you this meat vendor?" Don't know why, but I thought that was a great line. It just reeks of that wonderfully moronic, oxymoronic, disdainful incompetence that they so often display. The Apexiennes take in and set up all their tables and place settings and stuff. And Sandy manhandles a tree. As Elizabeth talks about having a disk with the menu on it, Ivana mutters, "This is redonkulous." Wait...she just said "redonkulous." Do you suppose she's being funny? She's kind of talking to herself, so maybe she's being funny. She has to be, doesn't she? I mean...I know the Survivor people often can't spell each other's names, but I cannot believe anyone could..."redonkulous"...wow, if you were here with me right now, you'd learn what I just learned, which is that despair over the state of humanity, literacy, and sanity smells kind of like burnt popcorn.