So let's summarize the search thus far: "Not a goddamn thing," one of Marlo's goons reports to Chris. "Been in every trash can, dumpster, vacant for three blocks round. Nothing!" Yes, but did you a hard-target search of every gas station, residence, farmhouse, henhouse, outhouse, and doghouse in the area? Do Tommy Lee Jones's words mean nothing to you? Chris is not pleased by this news, and he's even less thrilled when his cell phone rings -- from the look on his face, it appears that Marlo would like some answers. "So what do you want us to do?" one of the henchmen asks Chris. Judging from his reaction, he wants them to angrily slam the trunk of their SUV.
Marlo is waiting out in front of the townhouse, seeing for himself the distance Omar must have plummeted, when Chris arrives for their meeting. Chris confirms that Omar, indeed, fell a very long way -- unless he used his ill-gotten gains from last season's heist to buy himself rocket-powered sneakers. Marlo looks at the balcony, looks back at Chris, and then returns his gaze to the balcony. "Don't seem possible," Marlo observes. Hey -- save that talk for the nitpicking thread, mister. "That some Spider-Man shit there," Marlo continues. I was thinking someone from the D.C. universe myself, but we all have our favorites. But Marlo has more important matters on his mind than whether Batman or the Punisher or Booster Gold is a more appropriate comic-book personification of Omar -- right now, Marlo is fixating on the fact that they took a shot at Omar and missed. "Now he gonna be at us," Marlo says, shaking his head and walking away. And by "us," Chris, Marlo means, "most likely you first." Chew on that during the credits while the rest of us go walking through a garden.
"If you have a problem with this, I understand completely." I believe I outlined my concerns several episodes ago about the direction your character had gone in, Lester.
We head over to a ribbon-cutting ceremony involving Carcetti and Andy Krawczyk, developer to the stars. An awkward joke from Carcetti, some forced laughter from the assembled dignitaries, and we've got ourselves a cut ribbon, folks. "It all started with Charles Center, and Tommy D'Allesandro," Carcetti begins. "And it continued with William Donald Schaefer and Harbor Place. And following that, there were Mayors Schmoke and O'Malley with Inner Harbor East. Well, today it is my administration's turn to lay claim to the middle branch of the Patapsco." The main difference being, of course, is that those guys were actual mayors of Baltimore, whereas you are a fictional character. I suppose I shouldn't find that juxtaposition jarring, but I do. Anyhow, the project Carcetti's here to seize as his own is New Westport. Say, that name sounds familiar. Wasn't that the project that the dockworkers' union was adamantly opposed to? How'd that work out for them? Not very well, if the scowling dockworkers watching the ceremony are anything to go by. And they've decided to make their displeasure known: "Fuck you, Krawczyk," one of them screams, interrupting the polite applause by the gathered dignitaries. My God -- that's Nick Sobotka's music! "Yeah, fuck you, greedhead motherfucker," Nick continues. "Fuck you for tearing down the port of Baltimore, and selling it to some yuppie assholes from Washington." The police quickly surround Nick and escort him away -- just like old times. From the podium, Carcetti asks who that was that just marred a perfectly fine ribbon-cutting ceremony by cursing like a longshoreman. "Oh, that's nobody, Mr. Mayor," Krwczyk says. "Nobody at all." Spoken like a man who made only minimal appearances in Season Two.
Hey, it's our flightless friend Omar, and from the way he's gingerly wrapping up his ankles and suppressing sobs, I'd say four-story falls don't agree too much with him. That's good, because you'd hate to see Omar take a tumble like that, bounce up with nary a scratch, and say something like, "Looks like there's more than one way to get high, baby." That's the province of Die Hard, not The Wire. Anyhow, Omar is in quite crappy shape, as the grunting and panting and clenching teeth and beads of sweat will attest -- he grabs a broom, and, using it as a crutch, he hobbles out of his hiding place. A quick pan up from Omar to the balcony where he learned that man best leave air travel to the good folks at JetBlue reveals that he's been hiding in the janitorial room of the very building he jumped out of. Now that's unbelievable. You mean to tell me that for all their alpha-predator skills, Chris, Snoop, et al., never bothered to check the supply room not fifty yards from where Omar go boom? C'mon. I'll buy a man hobbling away from that kind of a collision with terra firma, but I won't buy the rest of that.