Blue electric map navigates us to the beachcombing town of Myrtle Beach, South Carolina. And if you're not a beachcomber, you're most likely a fisherman of some sorts, so Kimble walks the docks looking for work.
As a joke, the writers decided to make the boat Kimble singles out as his next career choice a shrimp boat. Maybe he and Lt. "Bubba" Gerard will make nice and go into the biz together, you think? ("Shrimp cocktail, shrimp stew, shrimp casserole, shrimp soup…") The hale-and-hearty-me-mateys doesn't ask Kimble for his curriculum vitae -- he just asks, "You ever work a commercial fleeter?" Kimble says no, but "I spent some time on the water." Dear Dr. Kimble, drawbridge-jumping in order to escape Lt. Bubba or One Arm does not qualify as "spending time on the water." Love, keckler. Instead of looking over his curriculum vitae, the shrimper asks Kimble to tie a "lock-and-half-hitch." Kimble reaches over the gunwale and twists the rope around. Okay, so he's a crafty fugitive, a doctor, and now I'll bet he was an Eagle Scout to boot. Surprisingly, the shrimper shakes his head and tells him he's sorry, but he doesn't have time to be teaching him all that kind of stuff. Disheartened, Kimble walks off.
The electric blue map shoots us halfway across the country to Lake Delton, Wisconsin, where Lt. Bubba ties what I am convinced is a lock-and-half-hitch on a smaller yacht. Okay, I know I couldn't recognize that kind of knot if it sent me an email and a PDF file. Just don't tell my father, alias Capt. Bligh. Lt. Bubba helps his daughter, Alex, off the boat and tells her to keep her life-vest on until she's on dry land. Bubba's second wife, Joss-Sara, tells him affectionately that she doesn't know who needed this vacation more: him, her, or Alex. Bubba bends to pick up his bag, which suddenly morphs into Kimble's bag as he walks around the slips in the marina, checking things out.
In broad and sunny daylight, Kimble climbs aboard one of the posher yachts in the marina and manages to get inside the cabin. Without a key. Too bad some other Mr. Howell actually sees him doing this. Kimble quickly cases his opulent surroundings and heads straight for the galley.
Back in Wisconsin, Alex says, "Damn! I left my laptop on the boat!" Joss-Sara snots, "Is 'damn' a ladylike thing to say, Alex? Because I don't think it is." Alex gives her the snot right back by telling her that she's a girl, not a lady. Lt. Dad gives his daughter the hairy eyeball and Alex backs down. "Okay, I left my darn laptop on the boat," she says. That's not how she cussed originally, but who cares about continuity within the same scene, right? Alex scampers back to get her laptop. Lt. Dad asks Joss-Sara what Alex needs a computer on the boat for anyway. Joss-Sara tries to explain, "The girl is fourteen. Last week she was working on her last will and testament. Rational thought does not enter into it."
Back to the yacht in Myrtle Beach. Dr. Fugitive finds a small can with a pull-tab and noisily sucks down whatever was in it. It's pretty loud and gross, because they decided putting a mic in the can was a really good idea. As he snarfs, we hear Alex say, "That is so disgusting!"