A giant Delta Airlines plane (okay, it's probably a normal Delta Airlines plane, but as with everything on this show, it's shot to look like an approaching Visigoth) arrives at what is probably one of New York's many confusing airports. Trump voices over that this is no game. "It's a fifteen-week [!] job interview," he says. A bald man we can call Bald Man gets off the plane. As Trump breaks the news that there are now eighteen candidates (up from last season's sixteen -- hey, that's totally more! This will be so much better!), we watch the camera slide lecherously up the form of a leggy blonde. We'll call her Leggy Blonde Part I. We then see a guy who demonstrates what Ethan Hawke would look like if he went through whatever change affected Anthony Michael Hall and made him all bulky. And then? A twelve-year-old is on the subway all by herself. Hey, she needs supervision! Next, we meet Beady-Eyed Man With Oddly-Shaped Head. And then a woman who has very, very short black hair and a bright green jacket that screams, "I learned how to dress like this from reading The Devil Wears Prada." Traffic flows unrealistically quickly in Manhattan some more, and then Trump explains that some of his candidates have great educations from great institutions that almost never advertise during Pimp My Ride, while some of them only have high school diplomas, and will be brought to the final four or so, only to be mercilessly bounced from the competition and find themselves drinking heavily while inviting the Ivy League to suck their left one. The last part about "left one," he does not say out loud.
A very, very tall woman in a cream-colored coat and a bright pink scarf looks at her cell phone like she's already bored and waiting to hear from her broker. A guy who looks like Jesse Bradford's doughier, paler, less attractive third cousin gets off a bus. A black guy in shades gets into a taxi. A guy in a suit who's being shot from very far away as if they're afraid he's too gruesome to be viewed up close walks along the subway platform jauntily, doing the traditional Dance of the Muggable Tourist. The camera again (Jesus!) slides lecherously up the body of a black woman with frizzy light hair and great big sunglasses. Off the bus -- in a tube dress, no less -- comes Leggy Blonde Part II: The Return Of Leggy Blonde. A dork in a cab ties a bow tie. Shut up, Bow Tie Dork. The camera does a much shorter slide up the frame of Leggy Brunette. It takes less time to slurp over chicks with brown hair, you know. Smart-looking Asian woman takes her carry-on off the bus as Trump rattles off all the professions and walks of life they come from -- lawyers, entrepreneurs, venture capitalists, blah dee blah. Leggy Blonde Part III: A Leggy Blonde Christmas glides along in a cab. (You can't see her legs, actually, but you can bet Stumpy Blonde got negged somewhere around the second audition.) Trump claims that these people are "the best and the brightest of what America has to offer." America cringes. Canada? In hysterics. They're like, "Oh, my God, now I get why that one guy is President."
There is more skyline-ness as Trump claims that they will work on "grueling" tasks, as some guy looks out the window of his taxi. That guy is dead meat. And..."grueling"? Are we moving to coal mining this year? I hope so. Trump talks about how this season will put the candidates in contact with "some of the biggest companies in the world," like Mattel, Pepsi, Levi's, Proctor & Gamble, and "many others." "These candidates will be in the big leagues," he says emphatically. The Moe B. lands, with Trump supposedly aboard, because then he supposedly deplanes, talking about that "yooge salary," and how "they too can become a billionaire." He did that last time, too. And then we pull back from the Moe B. and watch Trump ride off in his limo. Planes, cars...what will those rich guys think of next?