John hits on a waitress; drunk Paula tries to talk to her, too. Later, she drunkenly hangs up on abusive Keith. At work, Bossman Ricky Croft gives them a new commercial...I mean car for work purposes. But then he drops bad news that the salon might not be ready for the opening due to plumbing issues. The kids go snorkeling and jet-skiing and parasailing as a little break, because they deserve it so much. A tropical storm begins to develop, and the tourists are evacuated; the locals all drink at the bar and joke about the mounting hurricane. At the bar, Tanya keeps trying to cock-block John's wooing of a girl, and then tries to hit on her and actually invites the girl over for a girls-only sleepover. Or something. John and Paula fight back at the house. Paula overhears John talking about her later, and then she freaks out and yells and has one of her panic attacks. Suddenly, the friggin' Mayor of Key West shows up at the house, and tells them that they're being evacuated because of Hurricane Rita. First, they head to the salon to help sandbag the doors. Paula has a conversation with Tyler, who weirdly makes her feel a little better, and then tells the others to be nicer to Paula. They evacuate, and drive to the mainland.
Previously...Bossman Ricky Croft laid out their timeline for getting the salon running. Paula "made out with" a girl at the bar; she told us she is attracted to girls. Tyler pooh-poohed this notion, being the authority on All Things Queer (which is a great NPR show, by the way).
Opening credits. "Gorgeous, man!" someone shouts. Eh, not so much.
Night. Key West. Bars. Bar. Paula looks bored, as John blandly hits on a bland cocktail waitress, with the bland name of Kelly. John spits terrible drunken game, as Paula watches, annoyed, hungry. Paula camera-thins that John comes across as "that guy" when he talks to girls, and she thinks girls would rather talk to someone "calmer" and more on "their wavelength." Paula is too skinny to have a wave-length. John camera-talks that while he was talking to the girl, Paula came over and started ruining his game. We see Paula and John talking, and while it's very hard to hear, it sounds like Paula says, "I love her too," and then they slap five. Or something. Paula's arm does not, however, crack in two when they do slap five. Paula camera-bones that John doesn't want to admit that not every girl wants to talk to him. Except for you, Paula, because you're clearly jealous right now that John isn't talking to you. Even though you hate guys. But you need them. And you pick ones who hurt you. Because you're not deserving of love. Also, you need to see a dermatologist. And a nutritionist. And a therapist. You need to go see a lot of "ists."
Street. Night. Yeah, we see just how disapproving Paula is of John and how much she dislikes him...as she makes him carry her, laughing. She pivots around so that she's rubbing her Key West all over John's arm. VOMIT!
Key West. Key West. House. House. Paula drunkenly weaves up the stairs. John then does a confessional, talking about how when Paula drinks she is no longer "Paula"; her alter ego "Paula Walnuts" is born. Feh.
Phone room. Paula lies nearly face-down, talking on the phone to her abusive "ex-"boyfriend Keith. He asks whether they're going to be okay, and she whines, "No, we're not." He asks whether she's sad, and she says nothing. Paula whispers that she does want to go to bed, and then Keith complains that she's whispering, and she yells at him that he's not listening, and then she puts down the phone, annoyed (not hanging it up, though), and just rolls over as Keith keeps yelling her name. Heh. John finds Paula, picks her up, and carries her to bed. John camera-talks that he likes helping people, and that when Paula flips out, she needs help and needs to be comforted. And she needs a sandwich. (I know that's not an "ist," but she needs one.)
Night. Clouds. Tree. Wind. Bird sounds. Morning. Water. Key West. Salon. Zach tells Bossman Ricky Croft that they've scheduled a 110-person high-school marching band to come play at the Grand Opening of the salon. "That's awesome," says Bossman Ricky Croft. By the way, Bossman Ricky Croft has started, if you don't know by now -- and you should -- a blog! I shit you not. It's super-peppy and adorably goshdarn earnest. And what is it called? "Inside The Booth." And it's subtitled "Getting real about tanning & your favorite reality TV show." With the ampersand and everything! Too awesome. He even once blurbed my recaplet on his site. (But then I suppose he actually went and read it and realized we were a bunch of dicks over here. I guess I did call him a completely ineffectual businessman if he indeed co-invented the process and still could only get VP stripes. He's never mentioned us again. Boo.) Anyway, Zach continues to tell Bossman Ricky Croft about the plans for the opening, as Zach camera-fros how great the opening is going to be, and how they can't wait to open and "start tanning the people of Key West." (It is, of course, just what the town needs: a spray-on tanning place in the sunniest and most beach-havingest locale in the fucking country. Anyway.) Bossman Ricky Croft then launches into a super-fake conversation, in which he pretends to be pissed that the kids all have errands to run but only one car. So he tells them to step outside, and despite what he claims on his blog, the kids know they're getting a vehicle because one guesses, almost inaudibly, "Motorcyles?" Instead, waiting for them is a big red commercial for a MERCURY MILAN! Commercial. Commercial. They pretend to be super-excited about getting this new car to drive around in -- only for business uses, Bossman Ricky Croft sternly tells them. (Wait, they already have a FORD!, don't they?) John claims to have been scared that he was getting fired when they got called outside. Lie. Zach touches John a lot during this scene. Bossman Ricky Croft really looks like he's had a few rough nights out at the clubs; he's totally unshaven and wearing, clearly, last night's t-shirt. Aw, yeah. Bossman Ricky Croft got game! (Or he's been staying up all night obsessively checking the visitor stats of his blog -- clicking, clicking, clicking...)