Good golly, Andrew. It's a good thing you stopped to remind us how high society you are, else my mind might have wandered. Back on the boat, Kirsten's diamonds twinkle, and she looks at him with dollar signs in her eyes. Er, I meant "stars." Oh, wait. Actually, I totally meant "dollar signs." Weird. Anyway, they're drinking wine on the boat, and Andrew embarks on her "first wine-tasting lesson." Now, okay. I'm not trying to claim I didn't go to a pretentious college or anything (you and I are way past all that, aren't we?), but I took a wine-tasting class with a bunch of friends my senior year of college at my campus bar. It's hoity, but it's not like it's inaccessible to the masses. Yet Andy treats this moment like he's taking a can of beans and an open flame out of Kirsten's hands and replacing it with knowledge as old as the very living grape of earth. And, hi. He doesn't even really do that great a job. For a "winery" "owner." First of all, they're tasting white wine, which is never preferable to red because there is far more complexity and diversity among the reds. A nice white can be fine with fish or chicken, but being able to tell the difference between them will be as impressive to society's "haves" as insisting that you can appreciate the diverse bouquets of Tab versus Fanta. He instructs her to hold the glass by the stem, but doesn't tell her why. Why, you may ask? Well, as long as they're paying me: white wine is served cold and red wine is served at room temperature (duh), so one always holds the white wine glass by the stem to avoid warming it up with your hand's body temperature. This is why red wine is not always served in long-stem glasses. Also, because white wine is served cold, there is clearly an increased chance for condensation on the glass, which is another reason white wine is always served in a long-stem glass: the bottom of the glass acts as the coaster, so the dripping water from the outside of the glass has farther to run to get to the pricey tablecloth and make it all wet and mucky. Did I make that last one up? Maybe.
Anyway, Andrew swirls the wine in the glass but doesn't tell her why he does so (it's to measure the size of the wine's "legs," or the rivulets that form on the inside of the glass as the wine runs down it. The thinness/thickness of the legs is a determinant of the ingredients of the wine, and therefore the taste. Just swirling the wine around in the glass is a pretentious affectation that is absent a base of knowledge. Knowledge that is, in and of itself, also a pretentious affection, truth be told). He then puts his whole face in the glass and takes a big ol' whiff, takes an eensy sip, inhales like his medieval goblet is a ten-foot water bong, and swallows (which, technically…oh, never mind). Kirsten laughs like she gets one diamond per misplaced cackle, and puts the glass down on what she hopes is Big Bucks, not Whammies. She tells him that what she really wants to learn how to do is ballroom dance, and he oh-so-suavely retorts, "I'll give you a lesson tonight." This Renaissance genius! What can't he do? Besides "puberty"? Nothing. Kirsten keeps the flirt-o-meter needle on "needy," adding with painful honesty, "Then we can go to Vegas and get married!" L'il Andy thinks that's a great idea, and he grunts like Frankenstein's monster in appreciation. Whatever. I say anything that offers me license to ransack this scene with a torch-wielding angry mob has to be worth my having sat through. They dance and kiss, kiss and dance. Andy fills us in: "As Kirsten and I were dancing on the top of the boat" -- it's called "the deck," you fool, THE DECK -- "a boat happened to go by in the other direction and it had a wedding party on it." Wow. How totally unplanned, spontaneous, and not at all like when Trista and Ryan ran into forty weddings when they were wandering lost around a golf course or something last season. Sadly, this episode lacks the same level of pencil-sketches-of-white-tigers intensity as the aforementioned also-totally-manufactured emotionally relevant moment.