Previously on The O.C.: I miss BULLIT already. Also, a long-dead non-storyline about Sandy's quest for male friends is resurrected.
Sea animal-themed inflatable floats drift around the Cohen pool. A dog barks in the distance. And the world starts shaking so hard that it causes windows to spontaneously explode. Sweet.
Sadly, we're forced to leave this scene to travel back in time to "seventy-two hours earlier." Lame! I want to see earthquakes. Summer and Taylor are discussing Taylor's birthday. Taylor is thrilled to pieces that Summer and Ryan are throwing her a party since she's never had one before, which is so sad. Summer wants to buy Taylor a present, but Taylor keeps asking for things Summer can't buy her like lingerie and Ryan asking her to go to Berkeley with him next year. Wha? Yes, Taylor says, she applied to Berkeley along with some good schools, and she'd rather accompany Ryan to Berkeley than go to, say, Harvard or Oxford. Sigh. She thinks if she can get Ryan to say he loves her then everything else will magically fall into place. Summer and Taylor grab coffees even though it's too late in the day for caffeine and sit down at a table. Summer checks out a newspaper since she's really into being informed these days and disapproves of a huge front-page article about the mayor warning of earthquake weather. Summer says it's this kind of bad science that allows politicians deny the existence of global warming. I thought the mayor was into the environment. Also, it was a really slow news day in Newport. Taylor scoffs at how often people predict "the Big One" and then it never happens. One way to ensure that it will happen, of course, is to say it won't. Thanks a lot, Taylor. "It almost makes you wish that it would," she says. Why? I don't. I'm usually pleased when the Big One is predicted and then doesn't happen, because that means I stay alive.
Ryan's on his way to work in the morning when he finds Taylor in the backyard setting up breakfast. She says it's to thank him for throwing her the birthday party, since every other birthday of hers was spent watching Sixteen Candles and, Ryan says, "talking to a gypsy on the psychic hotline." Way to be offensive, Ryan. They're called Roma or Romany or -- in England anyway -- Travellers. Maybe if you watched House instead of working at The Pav all the time, you'd know that. Ryan says that he's expecting something "in return" from Taylor for all the effort he's put into planning her party: "I expect to have my way with you," he says. And then he kisses her lightly on the cheek. I guess that's his way. Taylor not-so-subtlely brings up how sad it's going to be when they all go off to their respective colleges in six months and that they need to take a "wild, impulsive jump into the unknown." Ryan just enjoys the croissants and doesn't know what Taylor's talking about.