Will gets all the kids into one of the rooms for a group
meeting. Kurt is looking at the room service menu. “Do you know I can get
an ahi tartare and a steak sandwich at 3
in the morning from the all-night dining menu? I feel like Eloise!”
“I have pills for that,” Brittany says.
Will tells the kids they’re on lockdown, and they have to
work on their songs while he goes to the theater to fill out some paperwork.
But really, he goes to the theater where April’s
show is opening, and sings a song with magical accompaniment and lighting
effects, and I do not care. If you do, I apologize. But I thought all this time
spent on Will’s somewhat less than mid-life crisis was a waste.
Back at the hotel, Brittany is singing an epic, epic song of
her own composition called, I presume, “My Cup,” which is so much
better than “My Headband,” if only because it opens with a pair of
hanging suspenders framing her butt and features not just her singing but her
dancing. Everything in life is better with HeMo
dancing. This is not just my opinion; it’s empirical fact. I believe there
may even be data on this.
Also? Watching everyone’s facial expressions during this
song is one of the best things about this whole episode. Santana is by turns
lovingly amused and totally gobsmacked. Kurt’s face is locked in a rictus of
horror. Lauren’s mouth is a perfect
“O” of disbelief.
“Is this song about… a cup?” Tina asks.
“Yeah, totally,” Brittany says.
“We gotta get out of here,” Quinn says decisively,
picking up her coat.
Team captains Finn and Rachel argue for obeying Mr. Schue,
but they’re over-ruled by the rest.
“We don’t need to write the songs for Nationals,” Quinn says. “New York’s going to
write them for us.”
Now, I read that this episode cost $6 million, and I believe
it. I don’t think it was worth the money, but I do believe it. The next scene
is a mash-up of “I Love New York”
and “New York, New
York,” set in basically every famous setting in Manhattan, including
places it would have taken them an hour to get to from where they were two
It’s really good, Quinn’s shoes are totally awesome, Santana
is so hot I’m surprised the cop she flirted with didn’t arrest her. And New York is even better
than Quinn’s shoes. (By the way, I tried to find a photo of Quinn’s shoes
somewhere. Last week, it took me two seconds to find out all about Kurt’s
pants. But nothing on her shoes.)
Later, Finn, Puck, Sam
and Mike are hanging out in the hotel room, and Puck says, “Can we just
talk about the Jewish elephant in the room?”
They try to convince Finn to make a play for Rachel. “You’re
in New York,
the city of love,” Puck says.
“I thought that was Paris,” Sam says, his mouth full.
“Anything’s possible here,” Puck goes on.
“You need to ask her out. Tonight. Take her on one of those big awful
dates you see in those romantic comedies where you grow a vagina if you if you
watch all the way through.”
“This is your shot, dude,” Sam says, still eating.
“If I was in love with a girl and I wasn’t homeless, I’d totally go for