LAST EDITED ON 12-17-05 AT 09:09 PM (EST)

Previously on The Amazing Race: Uchenna and Joyce decided that their morals, not to mention this small detail of not being thrown into jail for stiffing a cabbie on a fare -- something which probably still hasn't occurred to Colin -- were more important than winning a million dollars, and so resorted to asking people for help. And money. And help. But mostly money. After an impromptu begathon that would have made Jerry Lewis proud, they ran the last hundred yards to the mat in plenty of time to become millionaires. Not that they used the money to pay any of those people back, mind you. Do you have any idea what a new hair weave costs these days?

Next on the The Amazing Race: eleven teams of two set off on a journey that will cover 60,000 miles, touch down on five continents, and eventually bring three teams into a final leg where they'll race for a million dollars. And Phil's eyebrow will be set to kill.

Unfortunately, we still have to finish dealing with what came in between. It was not the Race we've come to know and loathe. There were thrilling scenes of ticket scrounging at airports. We did get extended Bus Rides From Hell (Thanks To The Envoys From Something That Isn't Quite Heaven, At Least Not Until They Get Barred From It). The bunching? Showed up. It always does. There were teams to bash -- oh, were there ever teams to bash. But we were stuck on a single continent. We had Yields that did nothing, Fast Forwards that went nowhere, and people who were struggling with the local language when the local language just happened to be English. We did have the usual dose of idiocy, forty-eight times our recommended annual allotment of religious hypocrisy, and there may have been a sighting of the Festers at the start of the thing just to give us Hope, which is the greatest of all treasures. Second-greatest would be for Bruck to declare this season as never having existed. I'm told this is called 'retconning' in the science fiction industry. It stunk? It's gone. Any film record is just the byproduct of a massive collective delusion, much like the Weaver support on the board. For further details, I'm told you should see Star Trek V, the Logan's Run TV series, one whole season of Dallas, and any issue of any comic book ever written, as long as it isn't the first. And sometimes not even then.

So let's pretend. There was no Season 8. There was just a little work of fan fiction. Someone said 'What would happen if the race sent off ten families of four to tour North America for no apparent reason?', and then wrote in characters who couldn't possibly exist in real life. Or maybe that's 'shouldn't'. Or possibly even 'should stop existing right now'. We're just writing the last chapter in a piece of complete speculation about what would have happened if, for some strange reason, our beloathed Race had chosen to not only jump the shark, but marry it, produce three offspring, then sent the wife and kids to see how much of our collective patience they could chew into tiny shark-bits, at least during those moments when they weren't chowing down on the scenery, the locals, and every McDonald's on the course. Hey, Phil! Supersize them! And don't forget about the liver failure!

It's all just a dream. A bad, bad dream. And I'm going to walk you through the last parts of it before you finally get to wake up to the real TAR, our TAR, the one, the only, the original, the thing we would have canceled after the first season if we'd gotten the chance. Possibly even during the first season.

So: Previously on This'll teach you to eat the week-old pizza just before bedtime, we started out from Brooklyn, New York, the biggest little city on the planet. There were ten teams of four at the starting line, each with a pre-existing family relationship of blood, marriage, legal requirements, and the raw fact that divorces are just so expensive, but staying together and trying to kill each other on national television is really, really cheap! In an attempt to prove that God does in fact exist as a benevolent entity, Linda Weaver was nearly run over by a buggy. (Sadly, the proof completely fell apart the instant we hit the word 'nearly'.) The Paolos argued, and we recommend you start getting used to that. The Godlewskis shrieked, and that too. And the Black Family, which also happened to be the Black Family, which is not to be confused with the White Family, or The Other White Family, Or The Seven Other Other White Families, got sent home early because no summarizer wanted to deal with that series of linguistic jokes more than once. The second jump then aimed itself for Washington D.C, where the teams went to the reflecting pool. Also the reflecting pool. Some of them even went to the reflecting pool and the reflecting pool, and really, what were the odds? (The Paolos argued about the odds. Weren't you paying attention?) We visited a Civil War reenactment, which, although we didn't know it at the time, gave us the real theme of the season: North vs. South Florida. Papa Rogers gave his son the wrong directions, then gave his son the blame for following them, and finally gave the camera a Biblically-ordained leadership role as he brought his family into Sequesterville, or at least we think they reached Sequesterville, because Phil told Papa Rogers to hang a left going out of the battlefield and he couldn't have possibly followed the right he took instead for more than a thousand miles before driving into the ocean and drowning.

After that, the next leap brought us down South, starting with the Carolina of the same name, where a lot of teams found their natural home (the mud) or their natural intellectual superiors (the shrimp). The Weavers lost their minds, or at least made it completely, utterly, publicly clear for the first time that they'd completely lost their minds -- clear to the other teams, because most of us figured that one out ages ago. The Racers were doing a good job stinking up the place, but the ratings didn't like them and we shot the Aiellos into space. This was followed by a trip to Alabama that was made for the express purpose of traumatizing the viewers by watching the producers traumatize the Weavers, and if you think I'm joking, you try watching a six-person circular bicycle (occupied by only four -- or occupied by four and powered by two -- sorry, Carissa, but your legs are too short to race with the Chosen of God) go around a racetrack at two miles an hour and see if you find it exciting. But the whole thing was just a setup for the Hometown Jinx to find a target again, because the Schroeders went home and then, naturally, the Schroeders went home, still angry about Cindy's refusal to give them a new car. And the Godlewskis shrieked, just in case you'd managed to block that from your memory, forcing all the teams to flee the country (with the Pink Ladies in hot pursuit) -- cue up some Van Halen? Thank you -- to land in Panama, oh-oh-oh-oh-oh! Mama Paolo got to fulfill the second-greatest dream of all the viewers by making her son fall from a great height. First-greatest would have been to do it to the Weavers. Headfirst. With no bungee cord. And there may have been a non-elimination in here somewhere, but we're pretending and so any non-elimination never happened, understand? Never. Happened. What did happen was a jump to Costa Rica, where the Paolos argued (and finished first), Megan Linz slowed down her brothers -- physically, not mentally, 'cause 'mentally' isn't happening without benefit of coma -- and for want of a bean, the smartest, most likable person on the course was sent home: goodbye, Carissa, but at least we got to see the rest of the Gaghan family go with you.

Everyone else went to Arizona so the Weavers could be traumatized again, which led the Godlewskis to try and comfort them, which led the Weavers to use their special Jesus Minutes -- more on this later -- and demand the Godlewskis be sentenced to an eternity of having to watch this season, because only evil people try to talk to and/or comfort others, which explains most of their behavior this season, doesn't it? There was something I'm blocking out that involved the unwelcome words 'Paolo panties', and then there was something else that involved the Paolos arguing. And being eliminated. And arguing about it. (By the way, at this point in the race, Rolly Weaver had done six hundred and fifty-eight Roadblocks. Kim, Kim, and Kim Weaver: zero.) The teams headed for Utah, which traumatized Linda Weaver again because she was surrounded by people who weren't (Weaver) Chrrrrisssstians! They were evil! They may have even been slagkikes, whatever those are! But no one understood why she was so upset because there's only four (Weaver) Christians in the world, all of whom are named 'Weaver', and they're always surrounded, so what's their problem? The confusion over this forced the Weavers to stop at McDonald's to worship their favorite false idol, and there was something else involving the phrase 'non-elimination' that we're going to skip over because it's just too depressing to talk about twice.

Look! Up in the sky! It's a complete waste of the first hour! It's a total elimination of all time differences between the teams! It's an exercise in futility! It's Suuuuuperleg! Yes, it's Superleg, stupid visitor from a previous season with the power to bring the entire Race to a crashing halt, blessed with strange Detours and Roadblocks beyond those of mortal men, here to save us from having anything of consequence happen for roughly ninety-five minutes. Things that happened of no consequence included Wally Bransen not slowing his team down -- trust me, that's never going to be of any consequence -- the Weavers receiving exactly what they deserved for having been so good this year: several hundred pounds of coal -- and, once we entered the Phil Zone, the Godlewskis leaving the race from a cold mat in Montana, which was still of no consequence because there wasn't anyone here who thought they could win anyway. But my, could they ever shriek.

Three teams remain. They are:

The Linz Family. Three frat boy brothers (Alex, Tommy and Nick), who form the Clotho/Lachesis/Atropos link of the Race: between them, they have exactly one brain and they pass it around to whoever needs it. They're accompanied by their sister Megan, about whom they have had no more than one discussion on 'If she wasn't related to us, would you so totally do her?', and it only lasted sixteen hours. They excel at anything physical involving raw strength. They have exactly the same capacity to finish a mental puzzle as Stephenie has to finish eating: it happens, but mostly via falling asleep. (To be fair, Megan is a lot smarter than her brothers and would probably charge through anything intellectual, but they don't have the brains required to stand aside and let her step up.) They want to stay near the Bransens, not because they want to keep a close eye on their competition, but because there's always a chance of another full moon shining over Broadway. This family has a collective education that could have only been taught by Linda Weaver, a collective heart as big as all outdoors, and a collective desire to seduce everything they see one infinity larger than their chances of actually doing it, because that's what happens when you divide by zero.

The Bransen Family. Meet Dad Wally and his three daughters (Elizabeth, Lauren, and Lindsay). The Linzes probably don't want to sleep with more than three of them, although this may be doubly unfair. They were caught by a Phil Mugging in a prior episode, which means the family has been going around in a very limited wardrobe for several legs. This only serves to turn the Linz boys on even more, but we're talking about people who are still entranced with the scent of their own methane, so make of that what you will. The father has some scant ability to follow a map. He's also been observed to walk without assistance (for short periods) and complain a lot. The daughters can do all of the preceding even better than their father, especially the complaining part, and have been carrying him through most of the course. It's not that he's Kim, you understand. He isn't even Flo, and aren't we all glad for that? It's just that having their hands supporting his back is the only way to keep their hands from pulling down their pants. Again.

The Weaver Family. The greatest cause of Christian sins in the history of the Race, because lying is a sin, and once the Weavers showed up, roughly sixteen million Christians of all denominations, when questioned about their faith, paused, looked awkward, and said 'Ummm... I just converted to Wicca...' Just by existing, the Weavers have forced all those innocent souls into eternal torture in the afterlife. Or they would if the Weavers weren't the only (Weaver) Christians on the planet and the other six billion of us weren't going to burn anyway. I said that already. Weren't you paying attention? This family consists of Linda (the mom), Rolly (the son), and Rebecca and Rachel (the spawns of the Dread Portal, which breeds monsters.) They hate you. No matter who you are, they hate you, because you're not a (Weaver) Christian. Have you been supporting their actions? Then they hate you too. (See the Godlewski incident for details, and by the way, they hope you really enjoyed the plastic surgery, because everyone who isn't a Weaver has had plastic surgery, and isn't that going to smell interesting when it starts melting into the brimstone?) Linda is a hypocrite whose words, actions, and faith are locked in a triangle of perpetual opposition. Her daughters are exactly the same, only with weaker vocabularies, and that's being compared to a mother who didn't get to visit the Great Township Of New Zealand. And then there's Rolly, who is probably just as rude, just as crude, and every bit as insulting -- but he's the only one who does any actual work, so some people can just barely stand him. Plus he's the youngest and there's a chance he's salvageable. Donations to the Have Angelina Jolie Adopt Rolly Foundation can be made via Phil's favorite sweater. Just pin it somewhere and he'll get back to you.

Where (in North America) will the teams travel on their final leg? What (in North America) will they have to do? Why (in God's name) is anyone still watching? And who (cares about who) will win the million dollars?

The power of mass heathen prayer has exactly one more chance to come through. Roll opening credits.

And we're on a ranch in Montana, Big Sky Country, where the sheep and cattle outnumber the people by a thousand to one, and if you don't think that does interesting things to your chances of getting a date on Saturday night, you obviously haven't learned to say 'cush-cush' yet. 'This ten-thousand acre ranch was the eleventh pit stop in the Amazing Race,' Phil tells us, and you can see the pain in his face as he forces himself not to finish the sentence with 'in a race around the world'. Poor Phil. He's had to confine himself to a single continent for a whole month. He's been forced to pretend he supports the Weavers. He's even had to deal with budget cutbacks that have him carrying his favorite golf club in the front of his pants. Yes, Phil is suffering, and like all good reality show hosts, he insists that we suffer with him. By the way, 'all good reality show hosts' is a pool of three. Sometimes two. Could be one. It's probably zero. Except for FOX, which is in negative numbers, just like their last set of reality ratings. And Martha, but we don't talk about Martha, now do we? Martha doesn't even talk about Martha, because Martha is the only real person in existence and talking about the only subject available all the time gets so boring. Much like the Weavers talking about the only real people in existence, who happen to be the Weavers. And yes, if the five ever touched, there would be an explosion.

It's the last chance to rest up and have fun with the local toys: Nick, who really got into that theoretical discussion earlier, is shown practicing use of the lasso by roping his sister. Just in case. Phil's voiceover asks us if the Weavers will continue to isolate themselves from the Legion Of Non-(Weaver) Christian Demons, which is immediately followed by a shot of all the teams having dinner -- the Linzes and Bransens at a table they combined for the occasion, the Weavers as far away as possible without committing the TAR Family sin of leaving the continent. (Phil knew the answer, mind you, he just really wanted to get the irony in.)

'This is the Last Supper,' the Linzes opinionate. Alex immediately starts a theoretical discussion on which disciples he'd be willing to sleep with if only they were girls. Eventually, everyone concludes that Jesus would make a smoking hot babe, and the teams go to bed. It's vitally important to get some rest, because the first departure time is 3:04 a.m. and everyone knows the best way to guarantee you'll remember your dream of a smoking hot Jesus babe (who came to save you and only you) is to get some serious oversleep.

The appointed hour comes, the Bransens open their envelope, and quickly find out that

1. They're leaving the country again.
2. The producers have decided there's no way they can avoid screwing that up.

The teams are going to make a 1,700 mile jump to Montreal starting from Billings-Logan International Airport -- but since this is a group that has collectively failed to tell east from west, north from south, the Great Lakes from a puddle in the road, and the Weavers from a group of howler monkeys, tickets have already been booked for all the teams on the same flight. They can look for other flights if they really want to, they can struggle against the Bruck-mandated bunching, and they can even fall to their knees on the mat and scream 'The land of equal opportunity health care and gay marriage! Why, God, why must you test us so!', but it won't do them any good. And neither will counting out their money at the starting mat, because the producers are determined to keep the amount from us. Nothing is ever mentioned. No cash is flashed. Voldemort does not show up and spirit the starting funds into her own pocket before blaming it on the first available gust of wind. The teams have some money, and some of it may even be American dollars, and a lot of good that's going to do them when Rebecca, who failed math twice and Basic Consideration Of Non-Human Value Systems thirteen times, starts trying to figure out the conversion rates -- but how much did they get? We don't know. All we can do is hope they pool their cash at the Racer Auction to try and buy Judd's wife. Again.

Once in Montreal, the teams will have to take a taxi to the Metropolitan train station -- and only a taxi -- and only a family-sized taxi: no riding in the front seats of a standard, no camera crew strapped to the roof -- again -- then enter The Underground City. You may be asking yourself what this is. It's a place where strange creatures dwell, and most of them like hockey. It's a place where a very large number of people set incredibly bad stories about elves with dark skin, two scimitars, a ridiculous amount of power for a starting character, and no, this does not make the summary a violation of someone else's intellectual property, although it may count as a really oblique shout-out. But it's really a system of tunnels below Montreal that allow people to travel on foot below street level and access most of the major buildings in the city without ever having to suffer exposure to a Montreal winter. It allows the city to function during natural disasters like blizzards and unnatural ones like the arrival of the Weavers, where everyone can just take their chances on the streets instead. But mostly, it allows us to remember that for a rare once, we are not in the United States. With the possible exception of Houston, which has a similar feature for avoiding the heat and is in the United States, but doesn't want to be. Quebec separatists, meet Texas separatists. They pretend they're not even part of their central nation, too! And the policy carried over to their native son in the White House! Beat that!

Once in the tunnel system, all teams will have to find the corridor leading to the CDP Capital Building -- and somewhere in that corridor, lurking just off to the side of a curved, slightly pointless blue and glass-covered wall, is the next clue.

The Bransens head for the airport, deciding that they will try to find a faster flight. The alternative is the one the producers booked: start at 6:30 a.m. on Northwest Airlines to Minneapolis, then Toronto, transfer to Air Canada, and finally jump to Montreal, arriving at 5:08 p.m. Walter reminds his daughters that French may be spoken in the area. Lauren starts practicing immediately with a declaration of 'Oh, crepe.'

3:08 a.m, and it's time for the Linzes to head out. They also declare their intent to look for a better flight. They also mention that they want to find some smoking hot Canadian women (and men) to totally check out while they're in the area, although Nick concedes that given any chance, he's going to hold out for his new fantasy girl, Jesusetta. Stigmata totally rocks!

And finally, 4:02 a.m, and the rough beasts shuffle towards the mat, their hour come around at last. Linda admits that she has no idea how her family is still in the Race. News flash, Linda: Neither. Do. We. They tried to get you out. They Yielded you twice. I think someone even hid your eye makeup at one point, but that plan failed when the fifty-gallon drum burned its way through the backpack. The only reason you and your coven of harpies are still here is because the cameras make for witnesses, and the laws that would allow us to get you off the course by any enjoyable means necessary only exist in Texas. Which is not part of the United States -- or North America -- or Earth -- and thus, you're not going there. No regions hostile to Americans, remember? Stupid, stupid Race law...

'We've just done it,' Linda adds. (No, Rolly's done it. Rolly has done everything but eat for your daughters, because if he tried that, they'd bite off his hand. Again. Don't think we didn't spot those scars around his wrists.) 'I just wanted to look at the other teams and say "Ha, ha, ha -- we're in the Final Three."' Gee. And you've been such a model of restraint before this.

The Bransens reach the airport and start checking for flights. As it turns out, there's a direct Northwestern flight from Minneapolis to Montreal that gets in ten minutes earlier than the connection series, and the team quickly books tickets on that one, figuring ten minutes might make a serious difference in the race to the first bunch point. The Linzes also check other flights, but make the mistake of asking which planes leaving from Billings would get them to Canada faster, and miss the opportunity to avoid the Toronto stopover. The Weavers don't have time to check: while the producers thoughtlessly booked a flight time that gave every team a chance to catch it, Team Hypocrisy is cutting it a little close. While they do make the plane, there's no chance to work the phones or counters and find a plane that God will not strike down with lightning just because the other teams happen to be on it, which would still allow the Weavers to safely land on a deserted island over a thousand miles off course where they'll be dealing with a nightmarish monster made of smoke and ash, also known as Jeff Probst. Instead, everyone reaches Minneapolis in one piece --

-- and cue sneakiness: the Bransens manage to get away from the Linz pack that's been shadowing their buttocks -- literally -- for the last several legs, and they reach their counter without letting the other teams know where they've vanished to. Of course, this means the Bransens can't spy on the Linzes, and that means they miss the Linz phone call which discovers a faster flight leaving from Toronto, arriving at 4:10 p.m. And naturally, this is right around the point when the Bransens are asking their counter attendant if their flight looks to be on time. (Foreshadowing much?) The Weavers repeat the earlier mistake of the Linzes by only asking the counter attendant about flights from the city they're in, and it's too late to catch the Bransens: they're already in the air -- leaving the Linzes and Weavers to take the same flight to Toronto, where the teams will separate again.

And yes, this is a tremendous amount of work to get a tiny time advantage moving into a bunch point.

Both team deplane in Toronto: the Linzes start to run through the airport to make their flight, and the Weavers decide to follow them, just in case the Linzes know something. (Other than the fact they're damned to hell for all eternity, but it's not as if they didn't tell them enough times.) Rolly decides that the Weavers can beat the Linzes in a footrace as long as someone tells Rebecca and Rachel there's a Pizza Hut at the other end -- Canadian Bacon toppings!, and the Weavers actually start to run. This includes the Weaver girls who, among the many things they do not possess, which include 'single-standard morality', 'respect of other's beliefs', and 'lower-body garments that cover all of both buttocks', can now add 'sports bras'. Still, Rolly has athletic ability, the speed of youth, and someone to compete against: Alex playfully joins the mini-race, taking on his younger rival on an all-out dash past the closed ticket counters. Rolly decides that what he really needs is a push-off to get a speed edge and tries to propel himself with said counters as a base -- but messes up the trajectory. He goes sideways into Alex, and both males tumble to the ground: slightly shaken, but unhurt.

Rolly starts to get up first, a little unsteadily. Alex goes fully vertical first and moves to help Rolly up, then gives him a comradely pat on the side. Rolly gives him an equally friendly pat on the head. Just males playing around.

Cue Linda Weaver.

'Don't touch my baby!'

Because, you know, mere contact with a heathen is good for the Third Circle.

Linda claims it looked like Alex was trying to push Rolly. (Wrong: he was helping him up, and the pats afterwards were just a male bonding 'Hey, it's just a game' thing.) Alex, miffed after his show of XY support was mistaken for a personal attack, decides Rolly was trying to pull him down via his backpack. (Wrong again: Rolly just collided with the backpack.) No one calls airport security, because that could mean hours sitting in front of the local police swearing out complaints and they both have flights to make. The Race staff doesn't do anything because while deliberate assault on another team is a disqualification offense, this was an accident, pure and simple. The Linzes are not at fault. The Weavers are not at fault, and yes, it physically hurt to write that. But they're still going to play it up for the cameras, because Everything Any Team Not Named Weaver Does Is Wrong. Remember: they're not (Weaver) Chrrrrrisssstian(s)!

Rachel, in a touching display of concern for her brother's physical and spiritual well-being, checks her cleavage.

Megan declares that the Race just became personal -- because before this, it was totally just an excuse to check out hot men all over the continent -- and we go to commercial. To simulate this experience, walk around the room while not looking at the Weavers for four whole minutes, then don't buy anything, see any movies, or associate yourself in any way with the things you thought about during the break. Peaceful, isn't it?

The show returns to find Linda approaching a security guard -- but it's not to change her mind about the 'hours sitting in front of the local police' thing, as much as we might wish otherwise, especially if the Linzes got on their flight while Linda was still running through thesaurus variations on 'heathens' while telling the guards who to look for. Instead, she just wants to know the best way to find out about tickets for a faster flight. The unwitting tool of Satan helpful guard takes them into the main office, where they find -- the same 4:10 p.m. arriving flight the Linzes are on! Of course, they don't know the Linzes are on it -- and the Linzes don't know the Weavers are now on it: they seem to think the Weavers went into the office to swear out a complaint against God and Country -- mostly Country -- but that's no reason for Linda not to pray there aren't any seats left, and there's plenty of time for the Linzes to hope the Weavers are still on the later flight.

Words can describe Linda's face when she sees the Linzes on the plane, but they mostly center around the consumption of lemon juice mixed with a healthy dose of vomit. Which is the same expression she's been wearing every time she's had to deal with another team for the entire duration of the Race, so let's just get to Montreal already.

The 4:10 flight touches down on time, and the Weavers clear the airport first: the Linzes need extra time to get the brain through customs, and until they have ahold of it again, they can't remember that they have to take a taxi into the city. So while the Weavers are entering their ride, located by running through traffic until they find an empty taxi and produce the Weaver-mandated minimum of six heathen deaths through collisions behind them -- the Linzes are stuck practicing the Bolo/Heather/Eve art of clue reading -- 'Taxi? Accommodate entire family? Do we have to go home and pick everyone else up?' -- and fall behind.

Of course, the Weavers never could ride smoothly.

Rolly: 'Are you going to go fast? El fasto!' (Pidgin fake Spanish: the other national language of Quebec.)
Ted, The Cab Driver: 'I'm not going to lose my life getting you there. In the back, please.'
Rolly: 'Gosh...' Because it's the first time in his life someone's offered to take him There, and he's been waiting to find out how special it is!

The Linzes wait at the taxi stand -- silly, silly Linzes! Causing fatal pileups is only for (Weaver) Christians! If you were a (Weaver) Christian, you could kill heathens too! -- while the Weavers practice their French on Ted, thanking him profusely for promising to get Rolly There. Because the sooner he's There, the sooner he's no longer Here. And for once, so say we all.

Ted's taxi passes the waiting Linzes -- Rolly notes that the 'G.I. Janes' look confused -- and Rebecca decides to reward Ted for his part in their lead by giving him several things she's never given a man: a wink, a snap of her fingers, and her personal flirtatious attention. Ted responds by giving Rebecca something he's never given a passenger in his cab: Mace.

Meanwhile, the Bransens learn that the plane they're on is running late and won't touch down until 5:25 p.m. (And thus, we're reminded of the difference between Markie-Mark and Bruck. Bruck spent ten seconds setting that up. Markie-Mark would have needed thirty minutes.)

The Weavers reach the train station first, and Linda insists that the cab wait until they return, just in case they're heading somewhere else immediately. Ted is reluctant, and Linda goes to her weapon of last resort: she insists Ted look her directly in the black pits of mascara that pass for her eyes. 'Okay, I'm looking, I'm looking...' Ted tells her -- and that's all it takes.

Contact. Ted's soul is sucked out of his body, twisted, rent in several places, and returned to him with the sense of judgment lost forever. The visible effect of this ultimate crime is the slight fading of one wrinkle on Linda's face.

Ted agrees to wait for the Weavers. The other option is to look in her eyes a second time.

The Weavers descend into the underground city. Linda becomes the cleric of the party. Rolly turns into the warrior. Rebecca and Rachel are incapable of change and remain trolls.

As the Linzes close in on the train station, having found a driver who is willing to lose his life for them as long as his widows gets paid off, the Weavers race through the tunnels, looking for the CDC building. Which is a tremendous aid to any wandering monsters in the area, because they're supposed to be questing for the CDP building. Seven random encounters, two pit traps, a deadfall, and the use of a Cure Serious Shorts Bunching spell later (save, sadly, succeeded), they find the clue box -- and a Detour.

Option one: Let He Who Is Without Sin Curl The First Stone. Teams will travel 22 miles to the McGill Arena to participate in a favorite local sport: curling. Basically, as two teams wind up describing it, this is shuffleboard on ice with sixteen-pound pucks, which means that in the event of running out of stones, Rachel's head may be used as a substitute. Each team member will have to glide one stone 120 feet down the ice and get it in the target area, known as 'the house': a large bullseye that normally scores points based on how close to the center you get -- but in this case, just being mostly over the edge is enough. The other team members can use sweeping brooms to smooth out a path for the stone and help guide it along the ice: the friction from sweeping creates a very thin layer of water that the stone can glide along. This task requires finesse, patience, and the ability not to fall on one's rear every three seconds. (Bransen rears will not be penalized for being bare, except for the natural penalty that occurs with ice contact.) The problem here -- which teams don't know about -- is that there are two McGill Arenas on two McGill campuses, only one of which is set up for curling. The teams are given a secondary name that their arena is known by, but who can be bothered to read that far down on the clue? Directions to the task basically stand a fifty-fifty chance of being wrong -- and a team that doesn't ask really specific questions could take a long time.

Option two: You Can't Burn Someone At The Stake Without Wood. After traveling 23 miles, the teams will come to the Morgan Arboretum and find a log-rolling course. Four moderately large logs will have to be rolled up, down, over, across, around, and through a hundred-foot section of what basically amounts to a wooden roller-coaster track: two people can roll a log at a time, and everyone has to get involved by the time all four are done. The catch is that you're not allowed to use your hands: a lumberjack's wedge (picture a short metal fishing pole with a huge curved, hinged hook dangling from the top and some sharp points for wedging into the wood) has to be used at all times. If a log falls off the track, the team doesn't have to start over -- but they do have to wrestle it back onto the course using the wedges. This task relies on strength and dexterity, which would seem to make it perfect for the Linzes and ill-suited for the Bransens. (Foreshadowing much more)? There's no way to tell how far apart the two arms of the Detour are -- it's not necessarily 'Go in the same direction and they're only a mile apart' -- but they're presumably close enough to switch over with only a minor time delay.

The Weavers cross their fingers on a plenitude of sinners and stones alike, then head out of the tunnels, find poor soul-carved Ted, and instruct him to take them to the McGill Arena. They even manage to say the secondary name, and of course good and proud and mutilated Ted knows which one that is, so they're off to the sounds of more Ted-praise. You have to praise people after you carve their souls. It makes it so much easier to make eye contact the second time.

As Ted drives away wondering why he has a sudden urge to eat brains, the Linzes reach the train station and descend into the underground city: three warriors and a princess who isn't allowed to have an active role in the party because she's just a girl and they have to save her (from herself)! 'This is a friggin' maze!' Megan protests, unable to find a way through the corridors of her siblings' sexism -- just as the team races past the clue box. Never saw it. Went right by it. And do you know what's up ahead? Level Two. Hope they brought the bastard sword. The Weavers already brought the plural.

Right around this time, the Bransens touch down. And a little bit after that, Ted delivers the Weavers -- to the wrong McGill Arena. (But to be fair, let's see how good your sense of direction is after your soul's been used as a chew toy.) The doors are locked. No sinners, no stones, no chance to kill anyone in God's name! And the Linzes are so lost that they've actually reached the CDP building -- where there's no clue box in sight. There's only one way to resolve this multiple-group crisis. Commercials!

(During the commercial break, you may want to wonder about how a direct flight dropped behind a couple of connecting ones, even with delays, when it appeared to leave so much earlier. You can keep wondering, because the editors aren't going to explain it. But now you have something other than Mama Paolo's panties to keep you up at night.)

And sure enough, when we get back, the Linzes have retraced their steps, found the clue box, chosen to go curling in the hopes that cute people with straight hair will be there, and found their equally-retained, completely-undamaged taxi driver. The Bransens have a cab and are on their way to the train station. And the Weavers, thanks to the power of prayer, are en route to the right arena. Well, sure Ted called his supervisor and asked for directions, but he couldn't have gotten the signal through without the boost from Linda's prominently-displayed cross! All glory to the Singular Power that is Jesus! Not to mention the Cingular Power! Sign up on the Weaver plan now and get 1500 minutes per month of begging God to drop what he's doing and save your rear from the most minor problems imaginable absolutely free! (Warning: most people in this plan use up 1500 minutes within twenty-five hours of joining. Please consider your actual needs before signing your soul over to Linda. Thank you.)

To their credit -- OW! -- the Weavers don't berate Ted for getting it wrong the first time, instead choosing to praise him and invite him into the arena with them -- an invitation he takes them up on. The instructors issue the team special shoes for the ice and special helmets because they're special people and there is this tiniest chance that if they cast a stone at a sinner, it may boomerang for no apparent reason. Rachel tells the world she has no idea what ice is, excepting the ice cubes she places in the sixteen sodas she consumes each day. This is not entirely unfair. The Weavers are from Florida, and ice storms aren't exactly the norm there. But really, you'd think she would have felt the shards in her own heart, wouldn't you?

Linda prays for her family to be good at the task -- she's on the 43,200 minute plan -- and also for Rolly to be the only one who has to do the task. The evil Race producers insist that it's one stone per person, and Rolly drops back into the anchor position, a place normally occupied by his sisters, who just can't be matched when it comes to producing dead weight to drag around. Rebecca's first stone comes up short of the house, but as per curling rules, has to stay on the ice -- and the Linzes reach the arena.

The wrong arena. They used the secondary name, they got directions from a passer-by, and they wound up at the wrong arena, too. (Apparently Linda's cross has been working overtime.) The siblings turn around and start looking for the right destination as the Bransens reach the underground city, descend, assume the roles of one weary warrior and three part-time princesses -- and, like the Linzes before them, go right past the slightly recessed clue box. (Serious, serious overtime...)

Rebecca's second attempt makes it inside the house, thanks to some inspired family sweeping. Linda needs several shots, made while her family foreshadowingly encourages her not to get frustrated with the task. Rebecca's first try lands in the back of the house, which is where all good (Weaver) Christian girls make their first try so as to remain pure. And Rolly, much to no one's surprise, gets a bullseye on his very first shot. (That's not minutes use: that's a natural athlete finding a new sport. Rolly has his points, but every one of them is physical.) The Weavers receive their next clue -- they have to travel to the site of the 1967 World's Fair and find the American Pavilion: a giant Buckyball designed by Buckminster Fuller, which has a highly stylized building inside it. Five stories' worth of stair climbing will bring them to the next clue box. The Weavers recover Ted from his position chewing on the half-opened skull of a dead task supervisor and head out.

Meanwhile, Wally takes out his magic ring and uses six charges to cast Find Massive Source Of Future Pain with an enhanced area: the Bransens manage to backtrack to the clue box and, in the most Typical Bransen Decision of the race, decide that they stink on ice -- no, the Weavers stink on ice: you took extra clothes -- and go for the logs. And the Linzes find out that they're only half an hour away from the right arena. Assuming they've gotten good directions from a local. Again. Of course, their cab driver could have called a supervisor, but it's not like they have any Jesus Minutes to power his signal. Don't you want some Jesus Minutes of your very own? Well, you can't have any. The Weavers got them all, because Jesus only loves the Weavers. Not you. Not you. And especially not you. Only the Weavers. Because they signed the two-year contract with optional Hex Messenging. And you didn't. So there. And now she's using more of her minutes to make Ted call for directions to the Buckyball, although she forgets to ask for clear traffic: the Weavers' taxi gets stalled in a jam, and a laughingly frustrated Ted, listening to the Weavers cheer him on with the aid of a recently-consumed auditory nerve, declared that he'd like to thank God for this experience. The Weavers tell Ted that they thank God all the time on their Jesus Plan, plus they've got Him on their Buddy List, and He's really good with emoticons! The next natural question is to ask Ted's religion -- which, because his soul was recently rendered, has automatically converted to Weaverianity. This triggers more cheering. Ted responds by looking hungrily at a passer-by and muttering something about medullas.

(Incredible amounts of Ted-praise deleted here, and for most of the remainder of the time in Montreal. Trust me, we could have killed six trillion electrons on 'Ted's the man!' alone.)

All this is taking place as the Linzes finally reach the right arena and proceed to make up some serious time: Alex needs two attempts to get a stone in the house, but his siblings only need one each, including Megan's anchor shot that ends with a stone just barely inside the scoring area and a slightly mortified sister sitting on the ice, where she managed to dump herself during the initial push. Having picked up non-Jesus minutes through a sterling performance, the siblings declare their love of all things curling, decide that they're going to build their own arena back home right next to the slightly-larger-than-giant chair, and head out to go Buckyballing. You may wonder what the sex-obsessed Linz brothers think Buckyballing really means. And frankly, you can keep wondering.

And the Bransens? Well, they've found the real advantage of the log task: anyone can find the Morgan Arboretum on the first try. Rolling logs? They suck at that. They're very good at stalling, and working against each other, dropping the logs off the track, and when it comes to the whole 'Let's pick the harder Detour and lose more time' thing, nobody beats the Bransens, but log rolling? Don't ask.

The Weavers reach the Buckyball (with Rachel marveling how cool it is that something so awesome could have been created by people who hadn't discovered short-shorts yet) as Linda has a rare moment of sense: the place to look for a staircase is -- at the base of the building! Not hanging in mid-air! Not underwater! Not in the Yellow Pages so her fingers can do the walking! She completely missed the part of the clue that said 'exterior staircase' and she sends her family all over the Buckyball to tug on locked doors, but at least she's not searching for it with a telescope! Sadly, there's only so much Buckyball to cover, and the family eventually finds their open-to-the-air entrance, with Rachel disgustedly observing that they should have been looking for where the stairs came down. The clue is recovered: they have to force Ted to take them to a building on Dickson street (no, not Dickinson -- I've suffered enough in that part of the Reality Realm, thank you) and find Le Porte J, which is -- a door with the letter 'J' on it. (Amazingly, the Weavers understand this. And it wasn't even El Porto J-O.) The Weavers tell Ted that God led them to him. Ted smiles and thoughtfully chews on the parking attendant's frontal lobe.

Meanwhile, the Linzes have the following deathless conversation:

Nick (to their cab driver): 'Andele!'
Tommy: 'That's Spanish.'
Megan: 'French.'
Tommy (pauses): '...right.'
Nick: 'It should be around here somewhere -- it should be an old building if it was around in 1967.'
Megan: 'I say we ask old people.'
Alex: 'What?'
Megan: 'Well, they were around at the time.'
Nick (thoughtfully): 'That makes sense.'

No applause: just throw Idiot's Guides To Amazingly Racing.

Eventually, they decide a crossing guard is of the right age to consult, and find out the Buckyball is -- visible on their right. Go, Linzes! The next clue needs you to identify the letter 'J'! You may want to start looking for a kindergardener now!

Many miles away, something crawls to the surface from the bottom of a dark Detour choice, and the Bransens finally clear the last log. Yes, the Bransen girls just couldn't handle big pieces of wood. And should the Linz boys succeed in their seduction attempts, the problem will never come up again. The Bransens decide that they're really in the race to do things they'd never do otherwise, with Lauren and Wally telling the camera that even though they stink on ice, they do curling all the time. Not arm curls. Not leg curls. Not hair curls. Not hair that we're going to see right now curls... oh, just go freeze-frame on the mooning or something.

Ted brings the Weavers to the J and declares his love for the Lord and sweet Jesus, because he knows there's brains to be found in the vicinity of the parking lot. The Weavers scramble out to the clue box and -- a Roadblock, wherein we once again see the family task philosophy:

Rolly: 'None of you will do it. I guess I'll do it!'

Who wants them to take away the (censored) net? In this Roadblock, the Foisted Off On One must complete a simple trapeze catch from the viewpoint of the caught: learn to swing across with knees over the bar, reach out to a partner, and make the transfer from swing to hands. Of course, the Weavers don't trust anyone but their own family and God. Linda can't eat souls from a distance, so making the catcher a honorary member of their family isn't an option. God doesn't make trapeze calls: just ask Richard Grayson. And she's a little worried about getting Rolly involved with a catcher, just in case Rolly misunderstands and decides he wants to try pitching. But it's for a million dollars, the chalk on Rolly's hand will protect him from contamination, and the Weavers count as their own religion, so there's no way they'll have to pay taxes: Rolly gets into the safety harness and starts learning the technique. And here's what you need to know about his attempt: Linda says 'I'm worried about my baby, swinging up so high', and if she thinks that's dangerous here, wait until Rolly gets into the cast of The Casino II. And yes, I know no one got that. Except Rolly, who once again completes a task on the first try. The Weavers, who have been in first place for pretty much the entire leg and are making people across the country pray for a bunch point using their Heathen Minutes, must now report to Parc Olympique, the site of the 1972 Games (which means Megan can go back on OldPeopleQuest in a few minutes), the former home of the Montreal Expos (which I could have made a thousand jokes about, but what's the point? A sad, empty shell), the current home of Canadian Football, and -- the site of the next task. The clue box is inside the main stadium (Stad Olympique), which has to be entered by golf cart. Not a Buick golf cart, because that bribe was only good for one leg. Just a regular golf cart, big enough for four people, small enough to fit through the one open door that leads to the main field. And how do you find that one open door? You look for it by driving all over the huge Olympic complex until you find the one ramp that leads to the one door that is open. Why is this important? Because the Weavers are doing it. Stay tuned...

'Rolly is so weird,' Linda tells the camera. 'He can do anything if he tries, and he does it perfectly.' Rolly, please try to shut your mother up.

The editing has the Linzes and Bransens arrive at what Nick calls the 'big golf ball' one-two, but that's just for footage purposes. While the Linzes find the staircase immediately and quickly head out looking for 'Dickenson Street', the time Wally needs to climb five flights of steps could be used for catch-up purposes by the Blacks. Starting from Pennsylvania. On foot. Wally huffs. He puffs. He falls down stairs, alone or in pairs. And he still thinks that before the Race is over, his family will be back in the running. And he didn't say that because he thought there was a bunch point coming up, oh no. He said that because the editors wanted to provide a sound effect sting and Wally just loves sound effects. Why do you think he's always breathing so hard?

Despite Wally's efforts, the Linzes still reach the trapeze site first. Megan realizes what the task will be from the clue and all but mugs her brothers to get the Roadblock assigned to her -- but a little sister bouncing with barely-repressed desire is something big brothers are designed to ignore, and so the task goes to Alex. Big Alex. Alex with the extra-wide rear that's being prominently displayed as he climbs up the ladder. Alex who's getting to be among the assistants at the top, who are alternately described by his jealous brothers as 'broads' and 'hotties', but most of all Alex who weighs twice as much as Rolly. It's not just about the catch, it's about the hold, and trapeze artists are thin and wiry for a reason: there's only so much weight you want jolting your shoulders at once. As such, Alex studies the technique, hooks the bar, swings out, reaches, catches -- and falls, because he couldn't get a good grip and he's too heavy for the catcher to hold onto without full cooperation, plus hoisting his weight off the bar is a problem. Hey-hey-hey, it's time for Fat Alex! And then it's time for a rerun, because he's got to do it until he gets it right or face a four-hour penalty. About five minutes later, he's ready to try again. And about five minutes later, he's still too heavy for a trapeze artist! Down goes Alex -- again and again and again...

The Weavers reach Parc Olympique, find their golf cart, and begin to drive around as Linda prays to receive wisdom (and don't we all hope she gets this one?) and find the entrance.

The Weavers immediately get lost. The power surge created by even trying to install wisdom blew a fuse.

The sun starts to set and the Race was filmed in high summer, so that means it's getting pretty late. There's ramps everywhere. One UFO with a giant celery stalk sticking out of it, but that's been there for years. (Okay, one Expos joke.) Plenty of doors, but they're all locked. Not that a locked door is a barrier to a Weaver, because their solution as South Florida drivers is to ram the nose of the golf cart into it, just in case that makes it move out of the way. Linda prays for guidance. She prays for a faster cart. She prays for doors to part like the Red Sea, or she would if that miracle wasn't associated with Lord-killing in some really distant way. But what she should have prayed for was better service, because the Parc doesn't have repeating towers set up around all that concrete, and when you add that to the blown fuse, this is a No-Prayer zone -- although the attempt still counts against their minutes. The Weavers are on their own. No God. No Ted, who's kind of busy having dinner with the security staff. And Rolly hasn't been asked to walk through walls on the first try. Problem. Although Linda's willing to apply her own special logic to solving it.

Linda: 'You know what? We should always take the left.'
Rolly (driving perfectly on the first try): 'Why?'
Linda: 'Because the right's the most common. So the left is always the way we should take.'

Linda, George W. Bush on line two. He wants you to know he just converted to Wicca.

Meanwhile, back at the trapeze, Alex is still fat. He is, however, trying to lose weight quickly by sweating two curling stones out through his forehead. Alex's pores have turned into Old Faithful and he's going off every ninety milliseconds with total reliability, which previously only applied to one of his biological functions. Megan decides to keep Alex from losing his focus by yelling at him. Alex falls. Again. And the Bransens catch up. Alex has been at the task for so long that the unknown amount of time need to mess up four log rolls plus the six years it took Wally to get up the stairs have just been negated. Nick tries to encourage him by saying Alex has an angel with him, complete with an arm-flap gesture that will make Disney sue and the Weavers throw up -- but by the time Alex finally sweats off enough weight to make him catchable by anyone except Elizabeth, who's being hooked into her harness -- Elizabeth likes a little weight on her men, y'know, it's the whole 'I'm secretly hunting for my dad' thing -- too much time has been lost, and it's not like there's more than one bunch point coming before everyone goes to bed. The Linzes collect their clue as the Bransens ask if the Weavers have been through the Roadblock -- the Linzes don't know and the staff doesn't answer -- and then head out to their waiting taxi.

Gee. I wonder what all these taxi fares are working out to?

Because the Bransens did the smart thing and did not choose Wally for this one -- there's a brief discussion of the horrible sights that would have awaited them in Air Flab -- the Roadblock is cleared on the first try. With the Bransens heading straight to the stadium and the Linzes having to stop and ask directions to the main gate, the two teams hit the golf carts right on top of each other, with Lindsay moaning about the possibility of the still-unseen Weavers using their time edge to win the race. Because Lindsay doesn't believe in Weaverianity. Or bunch points, since it's against Race bylaws for any team to be more than half-right.

Wally jams a toe running up the concrete steps, the camera gives us a moment of Bransen backsides perched on the edge of the golf cart -- Bransen backsides that are A. clothed and B. not Wally's -- and night completely falls as all three team continue to drive around the Parc. Megan asks a passer-by where the Stand Olympique is. They tell her it's the Stad. Megan decides she's gotten a tourist and asks the next passer-by the same question. This time, all three brothers and the local stay 'STAD!' at the same time. The Linzes decide to follow every sign that says 'Stad'. Next stop: find a first-grader who can read a four-letter word.

The Weavers finally locate a small ramp leading straight down -- not as far down as it really should now that the Weavers are on it -- I'm still waiting for a Detour that says 'Good Intentions or Handbasket?' -- but it turns out to be the right one: the field is below ground level, and the clue box is in the middle of the field. The Weavers run up to it, extract a clue, rip it open --

-- and everything I've written about time separations, task completions and their durations, taxi drivers, flight times, and the rest becomes a moot point.

Here's the next task. There are three departure times for charter flights hidden in the stadium, in boxes on the backs of seats (although that last detail isn't in the clue). The flights will travel to a mystery destination, but that's not important. What is important is the departure times. They are at 5:45 a.m, 5:50 a.m, and 5:55 a.m. the next morning. There are 56,000 seats in the stadium and exactly three boxes with departure times hidden among them. Taken altogether, this means teams could spend hours searching for flight times that, at best, would give them a ten-minute advantage for first place. Assuming all the planes fly at the same speed, land with equal facility, park at the same distance to the terminal... Not only has the first half of the leg been rendered pointless, but everything they're fighting for is more or less a completely moot point in itself, because to believe the time difference here means anything is to believe that bunching, luck, and especially bunching will mean nothing for the remainder of the Race. So in terms of the actual competition, this task is pretty much pointless.

In terms of suffering, it's pretty cool.

The Bransens and Linzes nearly have a cart collision -- hey, Nick, keep your eye on the road and not on the moon(s)! -- but shortly thereafter, find the entrance to the Stad --

'Staid.'

Megan, it's Stad.

'Stad...'

-- Olympique. The Weavers lose a little heart when they see the G.I. Janes come in -- they're still in the lower tier of seats and, as apparently dictated by the clue, they're all staying in the same section instead of spreading out more -- and they haven't found a box yet. They comfort themselves with having reached the stadium first. I comfort myself with the knowledge that said arrival meant nothing.

Tommy, who has the brain at the moment, catches on before opening the clue box -- 'They're looking for their exit time, dude' -- with his synapse fire assisted by the sudden presence of sleeping cots on the football field. The Linzes start searching. The Bransens, who are still waiting to receive their own insulting nickname, arrive and start searching. Wally realizes they need to look on the back of the seats. The Bransen girls propose using a search pattern like the one the ushers at their church walk through. I wonder what strange, niche, unknown religion the Bransens follow that would involve attending a place called 'a church', since there's only one of those in the whole world and it's in the Weavers' backyard. The Weavers complain about how unfair this bunch point is. I wonder exactly what show they thought they were coming on. Maybe it's the one on that mysterious secondary live feed that only a few people seem to get. You know -- the one with flowers and candy and really big lollipops and Weavers who are the nicest people in the world, but they're just misunderstood, really. I'd like to see that feed. I hear Judd won Survivor on that feed. And he was articulate in his final thank-you speech to the jury, too! And after he donated half his prize money to help an anorexic Steph recover -- they tell me the tears just flowed.

The Weavers suddenly stop and have a collective thought: Ted! He's still out there! The victims are piling up and every hour he continues to hunt while in their employ is costing them forty dollars! Now, in their defense -- OW! -- not paying Ted before coming in was not a stupid act. So far, the entire leg has been spent running into places, out of places, and to another place which the clue says you can only reach by taxi. You get into a rut -- and the clue didn't say anything about when the departure times were. The presence of the mysteriously-appearing cots is one thing, but for all anyone knows, a late-arriving team might be heading out five minutes after they came in. So the Weavers forgetting about Ted was not stupid. Stopping their hunt to go outside and pay him is marginally stupid because the other teams can keep searching during that period -- but it's only stupid until the others realize they haven't paid their drivers, stop hunting, and sheepishly return to their golf carts. It's not a delay if everyone's going through it, and now is the time on the Race when the pipers get paid. Megan thinks of the problem first, alerts the Bransens, and everyone goes outside.

The Weavers find Ted, pry a piece of skull out of his hand, place a couple of hundred dollars in it, and thank him for all his help, telling him that they came in first, but hit a negation task. 'Are you for real?' Ted asks them. (And wouldn't we all like to know?) He tell them to stay positive and not give up -- dun-dun-dun! and the Weavers wave goodbye to the fifth member of their little family. And so he shall remain until he forgets all about them. Stardom can do that to you, y'know. And getting the lead role in Resident Evil: Canada? Priceless.

The Linzes, on their way out, approach the Weavers on their way in. The pathway is just barely wide enough for two carts, but it would be fairly easy to get by -- if the Weavers would cooperate. It's in their best interests to do so, because it'll let them get back to the Stad faster. Instead, Linda instructs her offspring to stop where they are, leaving enough room for the Linzes to get past, plus one millimeter. The Linzes ask the Weavers to scoot over. Rebecca tells them she's already gone as far as she's going to go, which is a line no male has ever heard from her before. Megan, finally frustrated beyond endurance, says 'I don't think Thunder Thighs can scoot over any more.' The shocked Weavers yield ground, and the Linzes go by with Tommy getting in on the action with a quick declaration of 'Roly-poly' before Megan shushes him.

The Weavers can't believe what just happened! Someone called them a name! A bad name! A personal insult! How dare they? Who are the Linzes, anyway? Linda wants to know what kind of people use insulting nicknames for others!

Good question, Linda. Let's do a quick and partial review.

'G.I. Janes.'
'Desperate Housewives.'
'Stupids.'
'Implant Girls.'
'Cleavers.'
'Retards.'

Let's see. The answer to your question is -- you. You and your children. Since the first day of the Race. As a unit, you have bestowed insulting nicknames and terms on everyone in sight. What you have virtually never done is grace the other teams by using their actual names, because that would mean thinking of them as people. And practically no one is a real person to you, are they? It's just you and your family, passing out your fun little aliases to everyone you see. But that's not a sin, of course. Because a sin is not something the Weavers do to other people. A sin is something other people do to the Weavers. The Weavers are (Weaver) Christians and in the right. Everyone else is a heathen and will burn forever. So if a Weaver happens to kill you, they've actually blessed you by sending you to your eternal non-reward all the sooner. But if you smile at a Weaver and say comforting words because you see they're suffering in the shadow of a Race event that reminds them of their father, you must be blessed. Preferably with a knife. Any questions?

No?

Good. I'm glad we've all grasped the dark heart of what Weaverianity is all about. Let's get back to the (censored) Race, still in (re-censored) progress.

Megan moans about how much she wants to hit the Weavers in the face -- right there with you, Megan -- and once again, we reach the Keith Famie point of reality competition, here defined as 'The important thing here is that the Weavers don't get a million dollars.' The Bransens and Linzes agree: they're together to the end, helping each other as much as possible, as long as it keeps the Weavers at the back of the pack. The Keith Famie rule finally reached a show where it actually sounds like a good idea. Only took how many seasons?

All three teams are back at the Stad. The Weavers slow down to look more carefully. The Bransens are finally given their nickname, 'the Brady Bunch', which still isn't wrong because it came from a Weaver, oh ye of short attention span. Rebecca wants to go home so she can do her hair. Wally wants his toe to stop hurting. Nick wants to find the (censored) departure time already. I want them all to die, but I've felt like that since the first minute of my first summary and it hasn't even slowed me down. The Linzes decide to check the upper tier. The Weavers glance up, see the Linzes above them and decide it doesn't matter because sinners can't possibly be right about anything. The Bransen girls tell Wally to keep up with them, sore toe and all, and for the first time in the Race, Wally mutters 'Shut up' until his breath and talks about how much he'd love to kick someone's rear right about now, preferably the one belonging to whoever designed this task. And the single most disturbing image of the Race appears: Rachel has apparently decided that walking through the Stad constitutes a Roadblock, and that means Rolly has to do it for her. She is no longer walking. She is riding on Rolly's shoulders, crushing his head between her thighs. Which really doesn't matter much for Rolly because a crushed skull is just another essential part of being a Weaver, just like having nothing inside it that actually works, but still...

...that kid is going to be so screwed up...

'Gidiyyap!' Rachel commands the Rolly-horse. Her private pack mule trudges on.

(And yes, he's actually carrying her up the stairs. How strong is this kid?)

The Bransens, now figuring that all the stair-climbing will do wonders for their buttocks, join the Linzes in the upper tier. This cues more Weaver Logic, with the entire family now sitting down in the lower tier to take a breather. They want to know what the other teams are doing in the upper deck. Linda still thinks there's no point to searching up there, because if it was hard to get to, the producers wouldn't place anything in that area. (Again: what show does she think she's on?) Rolly's freshly-crushed skull must be letting a little fresh air in, because he just realized his mother is an idiot. They've been searching the easy-to-get-to area for what seems to have been a couple of hours, and what have they found? A fascinating new way to scent his hair. If the other teams are up there, the other teams may have a point. Why won't his mother listen to him?

(Salvageable, remember?)

Because he's not Jesus, that's why. The Weavers stay as low as they've been for the entire Race.

And -- what's that? Yes, that over there! Could it be? Could it be a box with a departure time in it? Could it be -- in the upper tier? Could the Linzes have found it? Could the Weavers be stupid? How many times do you want me to type 'Yes', anyway? The Linzes are released: the 5:50 a.m. card has been located, and they immediately commit to it without bothering to look for another one, possibly because it's well after midnight and those cots are starting to look really good. The Linzes tell the Bransens where the box was (confirming Wally's 'back of the seats' guess) and what their time was, then descend to the field and lie down. The Weavers, after some discussion, conclude that they must have found a clue. Rolly passionately pleads with his family, trying to get them to come to the upper tier with him so they can search where a clue was just found, instead of wandering around the lower tier 'like zombies'. The other Weavers ignore Rolly. He's starting to talk like a heathen.

And -- it's another clue! And it's still not in the lower tier! The Bransens have just found and pulled the 5:45 a.m. card, which means that the Weavers are now stuck in last place. Wally jokes about hiding the pass and continuing to look, but after his daughters visibly consider killing him, the weary Bransens descend to field level and get some rest. The weary Weavers also descend to field level and get some rest.

Of course, they haven't found their pass yet.

The Weaver children are on the field, with Rebecca gazing around the stadium and saying 'Look how many seats there are! I can't even count that high!', and since that's coming from someone who flunked math twice, we now know there are more than two seats in the stadium. Linda is asleep on a cot. And her children can't look for the pass, because all four team members have to be searching in the same section at the same time. Linda has Ostened. She has also Lanced, Marshalled, and she's been Sueing for the entire Race. The Weavers are stuck because their mother just quit on them. It's a very (Weaver) Christian value, quitting. 'Shall we try to understand the people, places, and cultures around us?'

'Nah. Let's just quit.'

Or, to listen to Rebecca, 'By not doing this, it's not like I haven't accomplished something. I'm not less of a better person or all that. It's just -- stupid.'

Yes, it is. First time I've seen 'takes one to know one' at work.

Linda sleeps. Her children sit around her cot. Rolly gazes at the roof and wonders if he can use a few of his mother's Jesus Minutes to get out of this family. It's over, the voiceover wants to let us know. They're not coming back from this.

And what can make the Weavers' world right and our own more dismal? Commercials! Going to commercial cures everything! Going to commercial makes the voiceover lie! Hey, everyone, let's go to commercial! Don't you wish you could go to commercial in your life! I know I do! Right now would be good.

You know what happens when we get back from commercial. Rolly manages to get the tiniest of sparks lit under his mother. The family trudges out of the lower deck and into the previously-unexplored middle (since Linda isn't quite ready to admit that a full ascension might be necessary yet). And Rolly finds the final pass. They're in last place. They're in last place by all of ten minutes, but it's still last place. Of course, they don't know that. The Weavers don't see any need to speak to the other teams and find out when the other charter flights depart. After all, Jesus is their travel agent, and just because the man spent most of his life on foot doesn't mean he can't get a good flight time. And the weary Weavers descend to field level and immediately head out the gate to get some rest at the airport instead of having to share an entire football field with the other teams, having missed out on the greatest opportunity in Weaverianity history: to stand together and sing 'Drop kick me, Jesus, through the goalposts of life' in the presence of pro-level goalposts. I swear, these people have no appreciation of faith whatsoever.

Good night, Bransens. Good night, Linzes. Go take a gospel class, Weavers. Ingrates.

The Weavers catch a taxi to St. Hubert Airport -- Rachel, in response to a question about stopping in the parking lot: 'Si. Oui. Whatever' -- check in with the counter attendant, find out they're in last place, do the expected amount of grousing, and collapse in the waiting room. A while later, the Bransens and Linzes get up, go to the airport, check in, and head into the waiting room. With the Weavers.

The camera immediately cuts away to sunrise and the airfield.

Kind of makes you wonder, doesn't it?

The teams take off to the sounds of airplane meals being opened, Linda saying she feels the family can get through anything in voiceover (as Rolly, the only one who wants to do anything, boards the plane), and bits of assorted brak-brak-braking about how they're all in the running for a million pre-tax dollars.

I didn't invent that, you know.

All three teams are now en route to a mystery destination -- oh, who am I kidding? It's Toronto. See that? It's a Canadian goose. No, wait -- that could mean they're in New Jersey. See that? It's the CN tower. It's also where they're going. And they're driving themselves, because the clue that says they're going to the CN tower is waiting on the windshield of yet another horrendous gas-guzzler in the parking lot. The Bransens land, carry their plastic bags full of clothing to the car (and did you notice the Linzes are the only teams that still have backpacks?), grab the clue, and start asking directions to the tallest thing on the horizon. The thing you can't miss from anywhere in the city. The building that you could not fail to reach if you were scooting along on your back and staring at the sky. But they need directions. Why? Because it's a Race for a million dollars. And it's possible that Wally sprained his neck while looking for the pass. The person they ask just says 'It's over there,' and points. The Bransens ask for clarification.

Now, the CN tower is the tallest building in the world: 1815 feet. How tall is that? It's so tall, you wouldn't believe the kind of signal Linda gets on her Jesus Phone. It's so tall that if you pushed the Weavers off the top, you'd have time to write a summary of the event before they reached the bottom. And it's so tall that on a clear day, you can see all the way to TAR1. Waiting on the observation deck are four pairs of binoculars (although it's only one pair per team -- the extra one is the classic 'How many people have been here before us?' decoy), and teams will have to use them to search the city for a yellow and white flag that marks their next destination. Sound familiar at all? We are searching for the Arc De Failure, and there's no way we could fail to miss that. After all, how hard could it be to spot a little yellow and white flag in a city the size of Toronto?

And as always, I will wait here patiently until you stop laughing.

The Linzes and Weavers touch down one-two -- just about literally: the Weavers have made up some time in the air, and they manage to get off their plane quickly and beat the Linzes into the parking lot, slipping into second place as the camera gives Rolly a reprise of his A Man Alone status. (I told you the departure times were pointless, remember?) But the Linzes, in the first display of something approaching geographic knowledge they've had -- well, ever -- know what the CN tower is, can see it on the horizon, and head straight for it. The Weavers are caught without a clue and don't know how to ask directions in the local language -- English -- this is not a joke: Rachel asks Linda how to say 'Where is?' and it turns out to be 'Where is?': surprise! -- so they have to stop at a gas station, where Linda is going to work on getting a map. And yes, it's probably entirely natural that the one thing the Linz boys would be able to recognize without benefit of personal experience would be a monumental erection. (It's the right term, people. Look it up.)

The gas station does have a map -- store copy, ripped and no good for sale -- and they're willing to give the Weavers directions from it. This isn't enough for Linda. She wants the map: after all, they can't sell it, so why not just give to her? The clerk hesitates. Linda tells him that if he gives, it will come back to him, although probably not in the form of a ripped map. The clerk hesitates. Linda looks into his eyes. Linda leaves with the map.

The Bransens reach the tower, get in the elevator that's been reserved for TAR use (and get ready to freeze-frame! When the elevator doors close, you can see one of their camera people reflected in the metal. TAR camera crew sightings are rare enough to make every last one special, so cherish this one for a while), and ascend to the observation deck. The binoculars are waiting. So is all of Toronto.

Gee, there's a lot of Toronto...

The Linzes arrive and start to look. The Weavers arrive and start to look. Paul slams down his binoculars and declares the task to be stupid, he's sick of the race and as far as he's concerned, he can go home right now. Emily decides to try the built-in telescopes instead, but doesn't have the loonies to operate them and has to ask the locals to throw her coins. Lenny gets annoyed by Karyn's constant cries of 'Leeeeeeennyyyyy!' from the base of the tower and decides that the flag must be at that well-known Toronto landmark, the Louvre, and so descends to the street without actually finding it.

Finally, the Bransens spot the flag -- as do the Linzes, a few seconds later: it's at the edge of a parking lot, which is in turn at the harbor. Both of them speak in whispers to keep the information from the Weavers, and the Bransens take a few extra seconds while using their high vantage point to plot out a road course to the flag -- but the teams wind up in the descending elevator together, the Famie Rule having successfully dropped the Weavers into third place. The Weavers react to this by doing what they do most. They pray. They pray to find the flag. They pray to beat the other teams. They pray to win the million dollars. They pray because even though Linda has the Jesus Minutes, if they stop for a single second, there's a chance someone else could tie up the line. Something has to save the Weavers, and that means -- commercials!

'We may be looking in the wrong place,' Linda muses as they come back from the break, and you have to wonder if she means 'Toronto'. The Linzes and Bransens, riding down in the elevator, openly hope they take forever or until the Rapture gives them a really good (and brief) aerial view, whichever comes first. But their wishes are no match for the power of Having Gone To Commercial: Rebecca just has to be good for something other than raising fast food stock prices, and eyes that are forever looking for faults which don't exist are just barely able to find a flag that does. The Weavers are back in the Race, and their third-place status is nothing another bunch point couldn't save them from.

Of course, we're in the last half-hour now. There are no more bunch points.

The editing takes a weird jump cut here: the Bransens and Linzes seem to be heading for the pier together, and the editing shows them running up to the clue box within seeming seconds of each other -- but we never see them in the same shot. The teams have become separated, the Linzes are ahead, and they're faced with a Detour.

Rope Fetish. (Survivor flashbacks! OW!) Sail a boat across the harbor to a large, quasi-ancient, multiple-mast sailing ship named the Kajama -- and that's 'sail' as in 'learn to operate the sails, ropes, till, and boom of a small boat under the guidance of a captain', so slow learners could have a problem with this one, and insert your own joke here. Once they reach the larger ship, one member of the family must climb a rope ladder and go one hundred feet up the mast, finally reaching a nautical flag that's red and yellow and not ripped off from Fear Factor at all, honest it wasn't, and you just know Rolly is doing this, unless his hormones kick in, Linda loses all control over her family, we open up the floor to one last Bystander-produced nightmare and see the 'Be the Racer' threads for details, and the Weavers wind up at:

Foot Fetish. Find the Bata shoe museum -- still in Toronto -- which contains shoes from all over the world, shoes from different periods in history, shoes that once belonged to celebrities, and before you ask, you can't smell any of them. The TAR producers have hired one hundred Canadian models with nothing better to do to parade around the museum and look bored -- while barefoot. Each team can take one pair of shoes from the designated area. Once they've got their footwear, all they have to do is find the woman they go with. One hundred women -- one correct fit -- one extended set of Bundy-related flashbacks -- and the classic needle-in-a-haystack challenge, only mobile and with a very snooty look on its collective face.

The Linzes immediately go for the ship. The Bransens, because Wally's had so few opportunities to be a dirty old man in the presence of his daughters, head for the museum, with Lauren quickly realizing that they're going for the pure luck element: either they're out quickly or Phil comes to get them at the straw-woven soles display. This departure is not-so-immediately, because the Weavers pull into the parking lot as the Bransens are pulling out. They head for the clue box, realize that if Rolly does this on the first try it's going to lead to some interesting magazines under his bed, and also head for the ship. Rolly's hormones crash, and the sudden lack of energy turns his attempted vault over the harbor gate into a skin-shredding attempt against the metal. And he didn't even get a chance to recognize a monumental erection.

A few seconds of frenzied travel cuts later, the Linzes arrive at the sailboat office and grab their captain. Since none of them have ever been sailing before, he tells them the one rule of the sea: 'Whatever I say is gospel.' (The reaction of the Weavers upon learning this from their own captain was sadly not recorded.) After the Linzes review a quick glossary of terms like 'jib' and 'mainsail' and 'don't drown', the Weavers arrive at the dock and get in their boat, with Linda looking oddly nervous at the till. Rolly catches on to this as quickly as he does everything else involving physical activity, and it still might lead to interesting magazines under his bed. The ships sail out across the harbor on a beautiful summer day, looking oddly dignified against the background of the Toronto skyline. It's one of the few moments of honest artistry in the entire Race, and it actually brings the old TAR to memory. Just for a moment -- but it counts.

And speaking of counting, let's count the expressions on the faces of the models, because the Bransens just reached the shoe museum! Let's see -- that's one -- and -- well, that's one. The Bransens react with dismay to seeing that the women are moving, following a pre-planned course around the museum, walking in lockstep. The girls quickly figure out that they need speed, and grab the pair of shoes that will be easiest to slip on and off in a hurry. The second part of the strategy involves splitting up: two people with one shoe each, positioned in places where the models have to go by. The rest is trying shoes on. And more shoes on. And still more shoes. And listening to the models pretend to be sorry as they say 'I'm sorry: that's not my shoe.' And by the way, in a special cross-promotion with UPN, the model whose shoe this is will get her picture ripped in half by Tyra next season for having less than perfect feet! As always, stay tuned! (Are there any racist connotations to a slightly-off pair of feet?)

Meanwhile, mainsails are hoisted, jibs are tinkered with, booms are lowered, and the Linzes are so tired, they can't even try to make a sexual reference out of it. But their lead is still good enough to reach the boat first, get Tommy hooked up in safety gear -- (censored!) -- and send him to the top of the ladder before the Weavers even manage to reach the dock. Presenting the flag to the captain gets them their next clue -- and the last of the mid-sized jumps. The teams have to drive eighty-one miles to Queenston, on the Canada side of Niagara Falls. Once there, they have to find some of the specialized boats designed to work in and around the whirlpools that form near the bottom of the Falls, and no, we are not going to have another little TAR1 moment here: the smoke that thunders got a lot more camera time. Each team can ride a boat out to a floating buoy and retrieve their next clue. It's wet, it's wild, and it requires no physical or mental activity whatsoever. Finally, we've found something Rachel can do -- other than look petulant, which she gets to do yet again as the Weavers approach the Kajama just in time to see the Linzes clearing out, with Megan's brothers urging her to 'move your seat!' The Weavers realize that at this point, they're no better than second -- but even if there's no bunch point, there's still plenty of time for Jesus to save them! Go, Jesus! Stop healing the sick! Forget about bringing peace to Earth! The whole Second Coming thing? Your rear is supposed to be in Canada saving the only people who really believe in you. Linda wants you to move your holy butt!

Unfortunately, since the Weavers are racing in a month with thirty-one days in it, this is the exact moment Linda's Jesus Plan runs out of minutes. Her cross tarnishes. The little bars on the upper portion fade into nothingness. The busy signal comes online for the first time. And the Weavers are on their own. They are no longer Racing With Jesus. They are now racing with Linda, Rebecca, Rachel, and Rolly. This cannot be considered as an improvement.

The camera cuts back to the Bransens, who are still making models try on shoes. And more models, all for the same shoe, which should really have been made of glass and is carrying some interesting diseases by now anyway. Suddenly, Cinderella emerges! She's short! She's blonde! She's getting an incredibly snooty look from the other models, all of whom really wanted their pictures torn up by Tyra instead! But it's her shot at national disgrace, her shoe, and as soon as the second set of Bransens brings her the other one, she sends them off to Queenston and drops the Weavers into third place.

Rolly climbs the rope ladder -- but he's now doing it without benefit of the Jesus Hotline. His safety is in his own hands, and it makes him audibly nervous -- and visibly clumsy. And before you start despairing over the earlier use of 'safety gear', all he did was drop the flag. This is not A Show On NBC With Really Strict Rules. As long as he can present the flag to the captain, he's fine. But it's a sign of sorts. The Weaver armor is cracking -- and a very big rent is about to show up.

All three teams are now en route -- sorry, but if you listen to Phil long enough -- to Queenston: take the QEW to route 405, and then follow the signs. The Linzes think they're in first. (They are.) The Bransens don't want the Weavers to win because Linda's insane. (She is.) The Weavers -- well:

Rachel: 'There's 405 -- Queenston.'
Linda: 'But that's not where we're going.'
Rachel (a little desperate): 'We're going to Queenston!'
Linda: 'We are?'
Rachel: 'Yeah!'
Linda: 'Sorry. I got a little mixed up there.'

Put your faith in God, but keep your memory in your own well-outlined skull.

The Linzes reach Queenston first and manage to find the right dock almost immediately -- with the aid of directions from a friendly local jogger. This brings them to several brightly-painted, built-for-splash boats that look like nothing so much as drastically oversized version of the vessels available on your better class of log flume ride. This boat will not sink. This boat will not fail. This boat has no roof and feels the best way to get through rapids is nose-first. This boat will not be hosting a family full of Godlewskis with wet T-shirts, and as such, Linda may have actually fallen silent in the insult department while watching this episode for as many as three seconds. But don't bet on it.

Now -- how close are the Bransens? So close that when they pull over to ask directions of a local, they get the exact same jogger, who was not hired by the producers in any way, no he wasn't, because that would be wrong. The jogger is bright enough to spot a connection between the queries and lets the Bransens know that he already directed their friends. Much to the Bransens' very mixed relief, said 'friends' turn out to be the Linzes, and if you listen closely, you just might be able to pick up Linda cursing from here -- plus a little bit from Wally: the Bransens pull up to the dock just in time to see the Linz boat pulling away from it, heading directly for the rapids.

'Look at those swells!' Megan cries. The Linz boys immediately start hunting for the Godlewskis.

*SPLASH* One team completely soaked.

And here come the Bransens! And here comes the screaming! And more screaming! And still more -- geez, can't they wait until they're actually near the rapids? -- You'd swear they were the Godlewskis or something... *SPLASH* Two teams completely soaked.

The Linz boat does a perfect bootlegger reverse to get within arm's reach of the clue buoy, giving the camera a few seconds to appreciate the view. It's a beautiful valley. It's great scenery. It's also a few hundred feet from the finish line, because the next clue says to get the boat captain, who is a different boat captain from the one we had earlier, but I'll understand if you lost track, to take them across the border to Lewiston, New York -- the final city, and the least among TAR finish lines. Think about it. Queens. Dallas. Phoenix. San Francisco. Chicago. Lewiston. One of these things is not like the other, one of these things doesn't belong, and for once, we're not talking about the Weavers, although we'll get back to that shortly. Once they're off the boat, they have to search the Standard Issue TAR Park (pat. established) for one more clue -- and one last task.

The Bransens, on their way into the clue buoy, pass the Linzes on their way out -- just as the Weavers pull up to the dock. Yes, the Weavers are still in this. They managed to find the dock without benefit of Jesus or joggers. They even have enough ego left to tell Rolly to hurry. Now, if the other two boats would through the grace of God sink -- oops. All out of Jesus Minutes. Nothing to do but get on the boat, with Linda still looking oddly nervous.

And there's the dock -- and it's time to search the park for the clue box -- which is -- ten feet away from the dock. (It was six hundred, but -- well, after the underground city, wouldn't you have moved it, too?) The Linzes grab, tear, and find the final Roadblock:

Who Did Not Study Geography Under Linda Weaver? A very large, slightly hollowed vertical outline of the North American continent, about nine feet square -- large enough to require a ladder to reach the top, provided -- awaits each team, and seventy-one puzzle pieces are strewn across the ground at the base of their board. The chosen family member must assemble the continent, state by state, province by province and, for Central America, country by country. As soon as they're finished, one final assignment awaits: follow the trail to the final mat -- and Phil -- and possibly even one million pre-tax dollars -- and the end of this collective nightmare, because the excitement of watching twelve people search 56,000 thousand seats for three exit passes is about to be matched by the excitement of up to three people trying to remember how to tell Colorado from Wyoming.

You know, about a century ago, people used to carry ovens out over a tightrope stretched across the Falls, cook breakfast on them at the halfway point, and then finish the morning on the other side. Seriously. Now that's a Roadblock.

Nick for the Linzes, which involves an emergency hand-off of the brain and a desperate hope for a record-setting second display of geographical knowledge, Wally for the Bransens, his daughters asking him if he can run one more time, his replying that he can try, and much more foreshadowing much?, both families searching the park for the puzzle board which is not right next to the clue box: it's far enough away to let the Bransens get a little closer, shorten the gap a tiny bit more. The Linzes find it first and Nick erupts into Hot Geography Action! -- but only has enough time to position Mexico and Alaska before Wally sprints in behind them. From the sounds of the pieces hitting the board, the pieces are wood going against wood. Without magnetism, anything that doesn't have support from the frame or other pieces is going to fall out -- and that leads to a definite order of assembly: the pieces that can stand alone first, then the ones that build on top of and around them, working inexorably inwards towards the Mid-Atlantic region and the tiny states awaiting therein. Both men catch on to the pattern: Florida as a quick stand-alone, Texas on top of Mexico, Nick needing a mildly edgy moment to get Oklahoma properly mounted on Texas. A million dollars at stake, and it's all about the geography. Finally, a challenge that was just waiting for the Gaghan kids, and what do we get? A father who earlier said he couldn't remember anything about Niagara Falls despite having been there, a frat boy who given the wrong day can't locate his own aching head with both hands and, lurking in the wings, Linda Weaver, who is just now going through the rapids --

*SPLASH* Three teams completely soaked -- and one scream cut off in mid-exhale. Rolly Weaver turns around to see an empty lifejacket with a puddle of black eyeshadow floating in the bottom. The Weaver children glance at each other, slowly toss off the shrug of long, sad experience, and reach into their pockets for the drying agent.

State by state, province by province, nation by nation. The rest of the family can watch and cheer, but only on their own boards: they can't track the competition. Memory is becoming a larger issue -- where? Next to what? In which orientation? -- and both men are having some trouble with the heartland. Just the pile of pieces is turning into a problem: the one you pull up isn't always the one you were looking for, and while you sometimes get a near-freebie, as Nick shows with a grab of Maine, you just as often get something you can't use, support, or brace just yet. The Weavers have recovered their clue, the boat is heading for the dock, and while they probably can't catch up quickly on this task, you just never know with Rolly: maybe if they let him throw the pieces at the board...

The Hometown Jinx almost comes into play one more time -- 'Where's Ohio? I live in Ohio!' -- but Nick spots the piece. Wally completes Central America in a hurry, working from outlines. A little edge here, a little there -- and now it's down to the small ones: the Mid-Atlantic and part of New England. Slam. Push. Twist. Nick hits the board, trying to get a stubborn piece in, and makes part of Canada fall out. Replace the province. Wally scavenging for pieces, not seeing Rhode Island off to the side, thinking he's almost done.

Nick pushes Connecticut into its proper place. The Linzes are done.

Wally turns away from the board, convinced he's ready. Rhode Island is still on the ground.

The Linzes take off, running with the strength of youth and the energy of desperation. Wally hears his daughters' cries, turns over, sees little Rhode Island lying there, grabs and places it, gathers his girls and runs as best he can --

-- and there are the other teams. The Blacks, gone too soon. The Rogers, gone not soon enough. The Aiellos, funny for every moment they had. The Schroeders, and how are they now, with their home gone? The Gaghans with Carissa, perhaps the most courageous Racer of them all. The Paolos, who we finally appreciated in the end. The Godlewskis, who we also appreciated once they were gone, but we mostly appreciated that they were gone. And now --

-- on your feet. I have been on my feet for every finish line since the first. It's the call. They are running. They are running for their lives, for their fame, for their fortune, for the joy of the chase and the thrill of the finish, with everything they have. Can you do any less than stand? And so standing, fists clenched, waiting with the eliminated teams, watching, muscles tight, breathing tense, waiting for the golden moment --

-- when the Linzes hit the mat.

Nick, mental exhaustion outweighing physical, falls down at Phil's feet.

'Twenty five days!', Phil extols. 'Over fifty cites, more than six hundred consecutive hours spent together as a family -- Linz family, you are the winners of the Amazing Race!'

No, it's not the international greeting we all know and love. It's not the spectacular attempt at the smallest and hardest of the jumps: from ordinary earth to the shining silver possibilities of the end. But for three whole seconds, it's almost an adequate substitute.

The other families clap. They cheer. They raise their fists in salute. They're happy about this win. Nine families bonded into a single extended unit, a group that understands and loves each other with various degrees of intensity and, between Linzes and Bransens, just a touch of incest as they're cheered in to the series of Linz hugs that await them on the mat. The Linzes speak of their parents, how much they owe them, and in the morning, they will split the check: half to their mother and father, the rest divided equally among the four siblings who raced and the three who stayed home. Wally tries to speak of how much he loves his daughters and begins to cry instead. The Paolos see someone crying and start to cry themselves, because they're an Italian family and it's what you do. Carissa cheers for Wally. The Linz boys flirt with the Bransen girls. The Bransen girls say they love their father to death, and they almost did several times. Tony Aiello struggles to maintain composure. There are tears, there is laughter, there is --

-- a family --

-- and then, somewhere in the distance, an unheard voice tells the Weavers they can stop trying to line Louisiana up by the Great Lakes now.

The Weavers arrive. They do enter at a light jog. There is some applause, just enough to let them know it's there because the families have seen the other seasons and know it's what you're supposed to do -- but it's not sincere. No cheers, no tears, no aura of affection wrapping itself around the last team to arrive. Hard eyes all around, locked expressions -- except for Hunter, wondering about a friend he wasn't allowed to have. They wanted to race alone, and they did. And now, at the final mat, they are still alone. It's what they wished for. It's what they prayed for. It's what they got.

In the end, the teams gather on the mat, and there is love, there are smiles, there's Carissa hugging everyone in sight -- or almost so. There's a single exception, and we all know who it is.

Let this be the epitaph.

The Linzes raced, and traveled from being frat boys who were too overprotective of their little sister to young men who still have a little growing up to do -- but at least they finally started.

The Bransens raced, and traveled from being a father who didn't know how to handle his daughters and daughters who were forgetting how to respect their father to a place where they could be a family again.

The Weavers raced. And the place they finished was exactly where they started from.

Family TAR is over, and at long last, it's time to wake up.

Now let us never speak of this again.