Tina bids her parents goodbye, and we're off to the Great Northern for a drink and a fire in the fireplace. Andrew and Tina sit on a red, velvet couch, Andy telling her that every concern he'd had about her is gone. She shares with us that she's afraid her "heart will get broken" and that she'll have lost "of the greatest guys [she's] ever met." Who? Oh, him.
Hey, I can see my house from here! Actually, I totally can't, because there's a "Manhattan" in the way. We're very much in New Jersey right now, and I think this sequence provides an important counterpoint to the weather in Wisconsin, because both Andrew and Christina are wearing light fall jackets, and this is one day during a New York winter during which time it snowed literally every day, all the time, forever. Also, there's no way they're playing these dates in order. Aren't Wisconsin and Ohio, like, either next to each other or the same? Why go all the way east and then south to go back? The Spruce Moose would surely crack under such strain. Andy is standing in a town square area of some kind, holding a bouquet of tacky flowers which obscure shots of the city skyline a mere sixty miles across the Hudson. Christina takes the flowers and his hand and they enter the limo. We cut to whatever the main street is in Montclair (I've never been there, partly because it's the one town in New Jersey no one from my family lives in and partly because I get my full share of authentic ethnic food locales right here in Bensonhurst, thanks very much) to find them entering a bakery. She points to an enormous, horribly gaudy, forty-layer wedding cake (one layer for each of Christina's rapidly advancing years, just like counting the rings on tree bark!) with a cascade of frosting shaped like roses pouring down the side. For those of you playing at home (and there's no watching without playing, clearly), that was the moment Andrew applied the mental boot to Christina. First, because his family is demure and tasteful in matters of fine wines and cakes, I'm sure. And second, who the hell would want to get married in a room with a wedding cake six inches taller than he is? The tiny wedding-cake groom would surely drown in the rich ethnic frosting.
Andrew and Christina enter the bakery, which is apparently Portuguese in derivation ["Oy. Hope you like incredibly heavy bread that sits in your stomach like a wad of lead, Andy." -- Wing Chun], as Christina tells us that her culture is important to her. A waitress brings over a big plate of breaded food and Christina feeds Andrew a bite and explains what it is he's eating-but-not-keeping-down. And, fine. Her culture is important to her. But, codfish? In a pastry shop? What culture is that, that dares to mix seafaring creatures with sugary confections? The Taste-Bud-Deprived? Practical-Joker-Americans? The cast of The Little Mermaid? Tell me who. Yeah, Andrew doesn't like it either. He refuses water, for some reason, because he's a big man (in sarcasm only, of course), and he tells us in interview, "If tonight's dinner doesn't go a little bit better, we might have to sneak out and grab a burger." Oh, ha. Let us malign those with a cultural heritage, rather than just being the blandly generic WASP you and your family take such pride in being. Now stuff this trout-filled donut in your mouth and think about who you've upset.