Destination Wedding (2018) Script

(jazz music playing)

(people chattering)

(man on TV) Why wouldn't we bring up the first amendment?

We have to stick to the constitution. That is what made this country.

(group chattering, indistinct)

(hocking phlegm) (TV continues in background)

(woman exhaling)

Don't die.

Come on, photosynthesis.

(jet engines whooshing)

(female announcer over PA, indistinct)

That's a nice dress. Oh. Thank you.

I like your jacket. Thanks.

I hope our flight's on time. Oh, it is. See?

This airline has an excellent arrival-departure record.

Um, I Googled it.

And, um, it has a 98...

No 96, no 98 percent approval... online user approval rating.

Which is very incredibly high, obviously.

Um, and Rancho Cucamonga Mary sent me three, who I trust implicitly, was very effusive about it.

Yeah. And you get a snack.


(woman on PA continues, indistinct)

I'm sorry, what was that? What?

You just took a step forward there.

I didn't. Yeah, you did. You know you did.

I didn't realize. Oh, I see.

I beg your pardon?

I s-see what you did. I know what you did. It's... What did I do?

You came up alongside me, you know, with your jacket and your face and charm, and you just, you know, talked to me for a strategic amount of time, established your position, and then just casually, blatantly stepped in front of me.

Like I had some sort of amnesia and couldn't remember 15 seconds in the past when you were behind me.

Untrue. (scoffs)

Oh my... You just did it again.

This is like watching a master at work in his dojo.

I mean... Here's what happened.

I came to my gate, hoping my flight was on time.

I then attempted to start a pleasant conversation, whereupon you revealed the tip of the iceberg of your tendencies, and I was forced to take a step forward to escape the vortex.

Oh, my God. Oh... Again! Oh!

And now you're casting me as the author of a Byzantine conspiracy theory of a Machiavellian land grab designed to usurp your position on an aircraft that has eight seats.

You know what? Okay.

That's cra... If I'm wrong, just step in back of me instead of in front of me.

No, because that would mean going past you again.

(scoffs) I see. You know what?

Five years ago, I would have said something trite like, "Chivalry is dead."

But this is worse than unchivalrous.

This is... You are part and parcel of a world that no longer has any idea how to behave itself.

In fact, I draw a straight line between people like you to investment bankers to politicians to terrorists.

You basically all have the same contempt for decency and rules and any manners.

And what's funny is there's no way you can board first because the only way you could board first is if you had a special need.

Do you have a special need?

Yes, I need to be over there.


(woman on PA continues, indistinct)




Fantastic. Wonderful.

Anybody want to trade seats? You're ridiculous.

Anybody? It's great back here.

(sighs) You've got to be kidding me.


What brings you to San Luis Obispo?

You don't have to. What?

Talk. Honestly, I'd be happier if you didn't.


(loud crinkling)

(loud crinkling)

Dear God. Tear it at the notch.

There is no notch.

Give it to me. I'm not giving you...

Give it to me.

This one does not appear to have a working notch.



All that...

Thank you.

(both groan)

I'm actually going to Paso Robles.

They call it Paso "Roables."

Well, the correct pronunciation is Robles.

But they call it "Roables."

Whatever. I hope it's a big place.

It isn't.

If I see you at a restaurant, I'll go to another restaurant.

I'm not going to be in any restaurants.

Why? Are you checking into a mental institution?

I'm going to that most presumptuous of all things, a destination wedding.

Please don't tell me it's Keith and Anne's.

How many weddings can there possibly be on any given day in Paso Robles?

I was praying for two.

And I was blaming Satan for my seat assignment when it was actually just Keith's assistant.

And how do you know the esteemed Keith?

I was engaged to him six years ago.

Oh, my God, you're Lindsay. Why, how do you know him?

He and I have the same mother.

Holy shit, you're Frank?

Oh, you're even worse than he said.

You too.


(loud slam)

Oh, my God.

Serious... (mouthing)


There was supposed to be a car. Our flight was early.

Really? It seemed so long.

(man on PA) Attention, passengers, increased security measures require all passengers to maintain close personal contact with your bags at all times.

(man on PA continues, indistinct)

So how much do you know about what happened between me and Keith?

I know that he broke off your engagement five weeks before the wedding.

And now I know why.

He said some shit about you, boy.

Like what? Doesn't matter.

Don't do that, don't dangle an injurious tidbit and then snatch it away.

Or what, I'll die alone?

Keith is a panhandling piece of garbage, and you're better off without him.

Which is saying something, considering how bad off you are.

Just pity the bride, whoever she is.

You haven't met her? Just like I never met you.

I stay as far away from Keith as I can.

My mother insisted I turn up for this shit show, otherwise, I wouldn't be meeting you now.

Isn't that nice to think about?

She said it's important to show up because if you show up, the worst they can say is you're horrendous, which is subjective.

But not showing up is objective.

Well, you showed up.

Why would you come to his wedding?

He broke your heart, as I recall.

Shattered, yes.

Didn't you wind up suing him?

Well, I needed to lash out.

Plus he cost my parents $32,000 in deposits.

Did you win? There was a settlement.

Did you feel better?

Look, I came because he invited me.

He only invited you because he wanted to act like a big person, not because he, in any way, wanted you to come.

You think I wanted to come? I'm just trying to be the big person.

See, this only works if one of you actually is a big person.

Well, also, I need closure.

You don't have closure? It was six years ago.

Do I strike you as someone who has closure?

He's marrying someone else. That's closure.

It's closed.

Closed is not the same thing as closure.

(car horn beeps)

Any chance they sent two cars?

So, what do you do, Frank?

That is, when you're not shining your light upon the world.

I run marketing for J.D. Power and Associates.

The "Car of the Year" people?

No, that's a magazine.

I bought one of your cars of the year. It was a piece of crap.

Again, a magazine. Common error.

Is that the career you dreamed of?

Handing out awards by the fistful?

Hugely successful company, extremely well-respected.

It's corporate brownnosing on a national scale.

International. And don't sleep on awards.

Our country lives on self-congratulation.

Let me ask you this.

Has there ever been a car that wasn't a J.D. Power and Associates Car of the Year?

We don't do "Car of the Year." That's a magazine.

I've seen those Lucite trophies.

They're on every car commercial for every car, ever.


What do you do anyway?

I prosecute companies and institutions for culturally insensitive actions or speech.

You're the politically correct police.

(laughs) No.

You parse what people say and do, and then accuse them of being racist or misogynist or otherwise horrible.

You destroy lives and reputations for money.

(scoffs) No.

Is that what you dreamed of? A career in reverse fascism?

I can't remember dreaming.

(key clatters)


(TV chattering)


I thought this was my closet.

Are you expecting a response of some kind?


Uh, I see now that there is a bolt on the door.

So, we should use it.


(Frank hocking phlegm)

(bolt clicks)

(TV continues)

(bolt clicks)

(hocking phlegm)

(man) ♪ Oh, my good girl ♪

♪ Looking this fancy ♪

♪ Pretty little mama Like a lot of table dancin' ♪

♪ I want to pop a bottle But she just keep dancin' ♪

♪ We gonna keep it up Till the top of the morning ♪

♪ Hey, everybody Take a look at that body ♪

♪ Fine derriere That's a whole lot of hotty ♪

(music fades)

How's your room? I'm just sleeping there.

How's yours?

I'll let you know after I run a UV light over the sheets.

We really shouldn't speak anymore.

If you think that's best.

Do you think Keith is trying to fix us up?

Even he is smarter than that.

I don't know. I mean, same flight.

Seated next to each other on the plane.

Adjoining rooms. Seated next to each other here.

You think that's all just coincidence?

Keith has never had a thought about another human being.

So we're just the people you don't know where to stick?

Might as well just stick us together.

I don't want to be a person you don't know where to stick.

That is not the life I imagined for myself.

I'm sure your next life will be better.

Welp, here we go.

So that's her.


She is a tall glass of hemlock.

She's Danish. Dutch, I thought.

Danish. From Denmark.

I know where Danish are from.

He looks the same as he used to.

Plastic people don't age.

Well, I was hoping he had.

I was hoping he'd be less attractive or on his way to obesity.

Is this the first time you've seen him since the crushing ending?

Is it bad? Yep.

As bad as you feared? Yeah. Worse.

How can this be the way the species is set up? I'm sorry?

How can we be allowed to feel so much for people who don't feel anything for us?

You're assuming that you're normal, which is hilarious.

It's incredibly cruel. Well, look at it this way.

For a time, you carved out a place in his life when there really shouldn't have been one.

That makes me a dipshit.

I agree. I was just humoring you.

The truth is, from puberty on in, we should all just be playing defense.

"On in"? On in to what? Death.

Oh, God. Officer on deck.

(Frank) So you got to know Mom. (Lindsay) Plenty well enough.

(Frank) So you met her twice.



(Frank) Oh, this fucking guy. (Lindsay) Who's he with?

(Frank) His girlfriend.

Howard left your mother?

"Left" is not a strong enough word. Fled.

(Lindsay) For an older woman? (Frank) He would have left for an otter.

Anyway, leaving is leaving. No, no.

Leaving for a younger woman is awful, it's horrible.

But leaving for an older woman is perverse.

(Frank) Mom would have been just as angry about a younger one.

(Lindsay) Yeah, but she would've been able to use her age to rail against a gender-unfair society.

I mean, leaving for a younger woman's the least he could've done.

My father left her for a younger woman.

She can think about that, when she wants to cheer up.

But she and your father eventually made peace though, didn't they?

Yep. Dad jumped out a seventh-floor window, and Mom considered them all square.

I'm sorry? Don't be.

I was not a fan.

Well, you're not a fan of many people, is my sense.

Well, this person shot me, so...

He shot you? He did.

He said I was the embodiment of all his bad choices.

Did it hurt? Did it hurt?

Is that a serious question?

There's a metal missile going into your body.

Yes, it hurt. It hurt a great deal.

Well, what did you do?

I ran at him.

You ran at him?

Why didn't you run away from him?

That didn't occur to me. I was pissed off.

He tried to shoot me again, but he missed.

I got the gun out of his hand, hit him in the face with it, broke his orbital bone.

What did he do? He cried.

Begged me to kill him. I wouldn't.

Not because I didn't want to, but because I didn't want to fuck up my life.

I mean, any more than it already was.

Turned out I didn't have to kill him though, because that night, he jumped.

It's quite a family.

Nobody's arguing.

(Lindsay) You can't call a 78-year-old woman your "girlfriend."

It's ridiculous.

(Frank) What should I call her then?

I don't know. An ossified, pre-dead corpse-friend?

Is that in the politically correct handbook?

I'm off the clock.

She just needs a little more hair and makeup.

(Lindsay) I think we passed a mortician on the way in.

Travel with her on your arm, you'd better know where the funeral parlors are at all times.

(Lindsay) And by "On your arm," you mean both figuratively and for actual physical support.

I've never met her. Better hurry.

I guess the heart wants what the heart wants.

(Lindsay) Or whatever the pacemaker says it can have.

(Frank) Apparently, they went to the same college.

She was a senior when he was a freshman.

Well, she's a senior again.


Are you gonna say hello? Yep. Are you?

Yep. (clears throat)

Have a nice time.

(dance music playing in background)

(rap music begins playing)

♪ Everybody, everybody Hands in the air ♪

♪ We're rocking with the beats That I'm dropping ♪

♪ With the beats That I'm dropping ♪

♪ With the beats That I'm dropping ♪

♪ Rocking with the beats That I'm dropping ♪

♪ With the beats That I'm dropping ♪

♪ With the beats That I'm dropping ♪


♪ With the beats That I'm dropping ♪

♪ Rocking with the beats That I'm dropping ♪

♪ With the beats That I'm dropping ♪

♪ With the beats That I'm dropping ♪

♪ Party will be rocking With the beats That I'm dropping ♪

♪ Party will be rocking With the beats That I'm dropping ♪

♪ Party will be rocking With the beats That I'm dropping ♪

♪ With the beats That I'm dropping ♪

♪ With the beats That I'm dropping ♪

♪ With the beats That I'm dropping ♪

♪ With the beats That I'm dropping ♪

♪ With the beats That I'm dropping ♪

♪ With the beats That I'm dropping ♪

♪ With the beats That I'm dropping ♪

♪ With the beats That I'm dropping ♪ You okay? Nope. You?

I'm all fucked up and I always will be.

You think anyone will notice if I... go back to the hotel?



All right.



(whispering) I mean, not to throw stones, but he has a lot going on.

I mean... I mean, I know I have mine, but my father never shot me.

I don't think he ever even touched a gun.

I mean, there was that one time I put those two boxes of Band-Aids on my doll and he, like, barely patted me.

Like, you couldn't even call it a spanking.

It was like... He was apologizing forever for it.

And he still feels bad.

I mean, seven floors.

I wonder if there was more floors he could of just gone up so he could die instantly.

Not like... (groans)

Can you die... How many...

I don't know. I guess it depends on the building.

Very, very...

Just psychologically, it's just interesting, but...

(mutters, indistinct)

(woman on TV) You don't think.

He stole from me, from his employer, from Katherine March.

(man on TV) My wife... I mean my former wife is correct.

I really can paint.

My copies were so bad I had to destroy them.

(woman on TV) For God's sake, he's lying.

Because he's left-handed, you idiot.

(man on TV) He told me Miss March painted them.

In my expert opinion... (TV clicks off)

(same TV program echoing faintly in next room)

(man on TV) He said he was going to fix it when he left my place around 2:00 a.m.

That's when I told him... (continues, indistinct)

(man on TV continues) So he kills her with my ice pick.

(woman on TV) And I heard her say, "'Hello, Johnnie' before she hung up."

(man on TV) He was there all right.

(woman on TV) Well, what I don't understand is this talk about her being an artist.

I never saw her paint.

(man on TV) That was one of her peculiar traits.

She never let anyone see her paint.

I would not have guessed, Frank, that you were a man who enjoyed a foot massage.

I'm not. When I saw the complimentary chit in the wedding welcome basket, I thought, "I don't want that.

I'm not comfortable with other people touching my feet.

I don't see why it's necessary or good."

Then why are you here?

Because it's a $30 value, and throwing it away would have bothered me even more than this does.

So, you're cheap.

Oh, I'm way worse than cheap, especially when it comes to free shit... I hoard free shit.

Especially the gray-area free shit, like the nail files and disposable slippers in the hotel room.

"Gray area."

I tell myself that they want me to take it, that I'm intended to take it.

Do you take the shoehorns?

Not the long ones, only the short ones.

Well, that's not a gray area, that's theft. You're a thief.

Do you take the shampoo, conditioner, and body wash?

I used to, but then one leaked in my suitcase.

Huh. What about the soaps?

Not the round soaps wrapped in paper.

But the bigger ones, in the boxes? Yes, I do.

So, you're a minor person with grubby hands.

I don't understand how, even after Keith did what he did to you, and even in the midst of the shame of being here, you can possibly still be mooning over him.

That's because you're a monkey who doesn't understand the human condition.

Having met you, I understand why it's a condition.

You don't stop loving a person just because they injure you.

It helps.

Well, love is not rational. Clearly.

But how could you even like Keith?

I never said I liked him. Then how can you love him?

Love has nothing to do with like.

Healthy people would disagree. Healthy people are sick.

Isn't there a part of you that just wants to wish him well and move on?

Mmm... Most of me wants him to be found in an icy river.

It makes no sense to want the person you love to be dead.

Because then you'd have no one left to love except yourself.

Which, in your case, would be unrequited.

I really don't want him dead. Good.

I want him to have a long life, during which he is miserable every single day before slowly dying of regret.

There are seven billion people in the world.

So when one of them behaves badly toward you, he's actually doing you a great favor because he's saving you time.

He's telling you that he's not worth your while.

He's freeing you to say, "Thank you for the information.

I will now move on to the 6,999,999,999 other people, some of whom may have some value."

And is that what you've done, Frank?

Just sifted, calmly and sensibly, through the entire population, searching for your soul mate?

No, I have opted out, which makes me uniquely qualified to observe and comment on your situation.

Oh, I am so lucky.

It was a long time ago. Not an eternity.

You were both very young. Old enough to know right from wrong.

Incidentally, I spoke to the bride last night.

Oh, she does not have the sense God gave a toaster.

She's a moron, and her breasts were built on a medical bench.

But she said to tell you that she hopes you can be friends.

You talked about me?

She didn't give you a lot of airtime.

She has trouble stringing sentences together.

And she uses a lot of personal pronouns, so you're not always quite sure who she's talking about.

Well done, Keith.

But if it helps, she said she's not threatened by you.

Yes, that helps tremendously.

At least I think she was talking about you.


She said "her." I'm pretty sure she meant you.

Wow. What do you care anyway? I don't.

I'm just trying to amuse myself and get to tomorrow.

Do you care about anything?

How many times in your life have you been in love?


What was it like?

How does anybody drink wine at 11:00 in the morning?

It's a winery, Frank.

Haven't you ever given out a Car of the Year award at 11:00?

I can still taste toothpaste.

You were absolutely right. What did you say?

A destination wedding is presumptuous.

"Please drag your carcass hundreds of miles to excessively celebrate our happiness."

Yeah. "Because our wedding is so special, it needs to be an epic imposition."

"It's far too important to celebrate in anybody's shit-ass hometown."

"Or on one calendar day. So kindly give up your entire weekend."

"And spend a fuck-ton of your own money, over and above the gift."

I bet you loved the minibar prices.

It's like 80 cents per cashew.

(Frank) What's hilarious is that these two have no idea they're in a fool's paradise.

You really think that?

I've spent most of my life dodging the shrapnel from my mother's marriages, both of which started with smiles as big as theirs.

Some marriages work out.

Yes, and some people have six fingers.

So I'm guessing you're single.

I decided to learn from my parents' mistakes.

It's a form of evolution.

Yeah, but you can't blame people for believing their own lives will be different.

Yes, I can. It's incredibly egotistical.

It might help you to consider the idea that heartbreak is pointless, because if you had wound up with the person, eventually, you would've been miserable anyway.

Actually that does help, thank you.

No problem.

But don't you believe there's someone for everyone?


I believe that there's nobody for anyone.

(people chattering, laughing)

I wish your mother and Howard's corpse-friend were playing.

They could try and dislodge each other's tunnel catheters.

Have you talked to the corpse-friend?

Briefly. She's dull, and she needs a week at depilatory camp.

Maybe she's rich. I sure hope so.

(man) Get her!

Do you ever think it's a crutch though, blaming your mother and father for everything?

When did crutches get a bad name?

When you have a broken leg, you need a crutch.

In fact, it would be stupid not to have a crutch.

Well, yeah, but broken legs heal.

I mean don't you have a responsibility to yourself to eventually cast aside the crutches and meet new challenges?

If the parent-child bond is diseased, you have a better chance of being a sociopath than of being well-adjusted.

I consider it a triumph of the will that there aren't shallow graves dotting my backyard.

Besides, who are you to talk?

Simple heartbreak like yours should be, relatively speaking, a piece of cake to get over.

Well, it's not.

I'd rather be strong and ruined than weak and ruined.

I'm not weak. I just have hope.

That's the same thing.

(loud smack) (men laughing)

How do you not install steps or a pathway for this shit?

They warned us. It was in the Welcome Basket.

This is a fucking liability nightmare.

That's right, sue Keith again.

Can't we just get the van to drive us up?

We're going 90 feet. Well, the heels won't make it.

Then take them off until we get there.

I just got a foot massage. So?

I'm not gonna show up at my ex-fiancé's wedding with dirty feet.

You can clean them off at the grape wash.

Can't you just carry me, please? What?

I can't believe I have to ask. What?

It's 90 feet. How much do you weigh?

Frank. I don't want to shed my mortal coil.

Well, if that happens, you can put me down.

(Lindsay grunts) (Frank coughs)

You have a high, specific gravity.

Yeah, dense bones.

Really deceptive avoirdupois.

This is the slowest I've ever been carried.

Oh, dear God, be quiet.

Can you just let me off at the top though, so no one sees that you carried me?

Why? Maybe Keith will get jealous and rethink everything.

Keith has forgotten I'm here.

(Frank grunting)

(Frank) Fuck me.

(sighs) It's 800 degrees.

Why is the minister in a seersucker suit?

(Lindsay) Because he's not a minister.

He's Keith's friend from college.

Levy, I think his name is.

Kaplan? Kaplan, right.

Is he wearing makeup? Always.

Usually the Nars Radiant Creamy.

If memory serves, he's gay.

The correct term is "Effeminate American." And actually he's pansexual.

What does that mean?

He's attracted to all genders, gender identities, and sexual orientations.

Come on. I'm telling you.

How'd he get the gig?

He fucked the bride and the groom.

Which was, like, no big deal. Vanilla.

I mean, because he would fuck, for example, a man who believes he's a woman?


Or a straight woman who believes she's actually a gay man?

Not a day goes by. What about hermaphrodites?

(Lindsay) You'd have to think.

(Frank) They just let anyone officiate at weddings?

Not anyone. You need a credit card and an Internet connection.

You researched this? Oh, I researched everything.

I knew where we would buy a house, where our kids would be born, where they'd go to school.

I knew where we'd be buried.

Do you become a clergyman in an online church of some sort?

No, you can just do weddings.

Not baptisms? No.

Funerals? Bar Mitzvahs? Just weddings.

How many believers does he have? No believers. No congregation.

Does his church preach that there's a heaven? Ain't got no church.

Why would anyone have my mother as the maid of honor?

(Lindsay) I don't know. It's like having the Grim Reaper at your CAT scan.

If I had a nickel for every time she said to me, "I am not your maid."

Was she born during the Great Depression? No, she caused it.

You know who I feel sorry for? Yourself?

Anne's father.

Why? He's the only one here who wasn't married to my mother.

Because once upon a time, he was the Most Important Male Person In Anne's Life, the "M.P.I.A.L." if you will.

I will, but only if I have to.

It's dangerous for a father to pass that mantle.

Just because he's Danish doesn't mean he was fucking his own daughter.

In a very real sense, by virtue of cultivating a healthy, loving relationship with her, showing her, day after day, year after year, how a good man should comport himself, he's been preparing her whole life for marriage.

To Keith. Exactly.

(Lindsay) That's the lamb to the slaughter right there.

She and her dad have been leading with their chins, cruising for a bruising.

Asking for it. It's a total sucker play.

Or so you've heard.

There's a sucker that reaches age of consent every minute.

When Keith turns out to be the mythic jerk that he is, all of her carefully curated self-esteem will be destroyed, a father will have lost a daughter, and where will she be?

Right here with the rest of us.

(band playing ballad)

I used to love this song.

Do you want to dance?

I said "used to." Fine.

Why, do you want to dance? Of course not, I hate dancing.

It's moronic and a complete waste of time.

You're not that busy.

I just thought maybe you wanted to dance to get your mind off things.

I don't and it wouldn't.

Fine. I said fine.

Neither of us wants to fucking dance.

(guests whooping)

I can't help but hope Keith tears a hip muscle.

Can we take a walk?

(guests cheering, applauding)

(Frank) How are the shoes? (Lindsay) They're fine.

I didn't really want to go through the whole entire selection, but I have weird arches on my mom's side.

So they're good. Yeah.


You know after the whole thing with Keith, I was diagnosed with PTSD. Rich person's PTSD.

Privileged person's PTSD. Okay, I do know what you're saying.

This is why people hate the top one percent.

I am not the top one percent. Neither am I.

When people talk about the top one percent like it's home, it drives me fucking crazy.

You know who's actually in the top one percent are the assholes that run the companies that I prosecute and you reward.

Top ten, top 20 percent, whatever it is.

The segment of society that doesn't have to worry about basic things like food, clothing, shelter, transportation, or getting shot by the police.

So we're not allowed to have problems?

We're allowed to have them, but no one is interested in them.

And I don't blame them, I'm not even interested.

We're trite, trivial, tiresome, tone-deaf narcissists.

I never said I wasn't a tone-deaf narcissist.

The optics are very bad. Nobody's looking.

We should keep our shit to ourselves.

We are keeping it to ourselves.

Besides, it's human nature to find pain in any situation, however relatively fortunate.

That doesn't make it listenable.

Well, I'm sorry if my brand of pain is out of vogue, but it's all I got.

It would be so much more interesting and fantastic if we had been fondled by priests or lost a leg but could still feel it or something.

(Lindsay laughs)

(Lindsay) My theory about myself is that my soma is sending me a Darwinian message telling me, "Hey, you're unfit to pass your DNA on to future generations, so you should just select out."

Well, just keep doing what you're doing.

But I have so much to give.

Not really.

(gasps) Holy shit, Frank. What is that?

(growling) I think it's a mountain lion.

Could it be a jaguar? I don't know. I'm not a zookeeper.

It's too big for an ocelot or a bearcat, but too small for a panther, I think.

What the fuck difference does it make what it is? It's a fucking predator cat.

A cougar, maybe? (cat snarling)

Jesus Christ. I don't know what you're worried about.

It's gonna go for me. Why?

I saw a thing. They pick out the smallest of the herd.

We're not a herd, we're wedding guests.

I'm telling you, you're safe if you just run.

You run. I'll stay here and fight.

Uh, yeah, but I'm not a sprinter.

I run for distance, so it gives me a certain clarity...

Yes, all right. (roars)

You run. I'll stay here and fight.

How about if we both run and nobody stays and fights?

Neither one of us can outrun a cheetah.

It's not a fucking cheetah. We're not in Africa.

They're also in Iran, I think it said.

They won't even hear us scream.

I hate those fucking people.

(snarling) On the plus side, you'll be ruining Keith's wedding.

That's true. Unless they don't find us for weeks.

And then only in pieces, some of which were brought back to its lair.


Last chance on the running.

I can't believe you're the last human person I'm ever gonna talk to.

There might be EMTs.

Yeah, but I might be a hemophiliac.

Might be? Don't you know that already?

Well, no, because you can get things as an adult, like adult onset asthma.

My friend Suzanne has that... (hissing, hocking phlegm)

(hocking phlegm) (snarls)

(hocking phlegm)

(roars) (hocking phlegm)


(hocking phlegm)

Now we run! Oh!

That was good, Frank. My throat is really raw.

(Lindsay) But why are we still running?

(Frank) Because I don't think it's a bad idea to put as much distance between us and the mountain lion as possible.

(Lindsay) It might've been a lynx!

(Frank) It would be so ironic if I strangled you.

Why do you have to ruin a nice moment!

(Lindsay) Ow! (Frank) Ah, fuck! Ah, fuck!

(Lindsay) Ow! Ow! (Frank) Fuck! Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck!

(Frank) Ah!

Okay. Oh.

For the record, you ruined the moment, not me.



I'm fine! For God's sake. Jesus.

Great. I just had the wind knocked out of me.

Okay, good.

It was good, because you didn't have the first clue what you were doing.

Hey, it's been a while since health class.

Yeah, well, if you thought I had a cervical injury, the last thing you're supposed to do is flip a person over like a fuckin' pancake.

I'm sorry. But on the other hand, you did save me.


I told you, it would have gone for me.

Why did you do that? Why did you save me?

I didn't save you.

Why did you save me?

Because I'm an idiot.

You could've died. Of idiocy.

Don't tell me you're secretly noble.

I'm not.

But I thought, "Maybe she's right.

Maybe hers is the life in danger.

She seems to know fuckin' everything."

And I didn't want to feel guilty for the rest of my life about not having saved you.

I get that.

I didn't want to think of myself as selfish. Frank.

As that selfish. Not on top of everything else I already think about myself.

Copy you.

'Cause it's not like I have so much to live for.

Yeah, well, that's true.

Well, anyway, thank you.

What the fuck, Frank?

I'm sorry. I don't know what that was.

Neither do I, for fuck's sake. Jesus.

Goddamn it! I'm sorry.

What is wrong with you? I don't know.

What the fuck?

Let's just... Come on.


(groans) Can't... Just put it on...

I'm sorry.

(panting) I'm sorry, it's just very difficult for me to give myself over to any sort of positive activity.

Yeah. Especially this one.

It makes me think about how long I've gone without it, which makes me want to kill myself.

Yeah, well, I've been pretty sure for a very long time that life is essentially a horrible experience, and I really don't need this kind of confusion.

And pressure. Yeah.

I mean, if it all sucks, then fuck it, but if it doesn't all suck, then there's so much pressure.


God, do you even know how long it's been since I've been touched with affection by another human being?

How about without affection?

(sighs) Nearly as long.

I tell you right now, I haven't felt pleasure since about 2006.

Sometimes, I feel the absence of pain, which at this point feels like pleasure, or at least pleasure's little cousin.

I don't have protection.

Well, why would you?

I mean, why would you have a condom today?

What are the odds? Astronomical.

What if you got pregnant? I'm sure my womb is hostile.

Having sex right now would be irresponsible.

Well, who cares?

I mean, how much worse can things get?

Okay. Yeah?



(sighs) Okay.


All right.

(clears throat)

(groans) Yeah, yeah, yeah...


How's that?

That's fine.


Do you think the mountain lion will be attracted to the musk?

I think it was a puma.


How is it now?

It feels strange yet pleasantly familiar, kind of like coming off a long diet or going back to smoking.

How about now?

Do you have any diseases?

Of course not.

I missed every possible sexual revolution.

The first one, the one after Tinder, the one after Caitlyn Jenner... Me, too.

(both moaning)


You have crabs?

No, actual crabs.

Over there.

Those aren't crabs, those are tarantulas.

They look like crabs.

No, they don't.

And besides, they don't attack humans.

Now you're just making shit up.

Oh, yes, for the thrill of fucking you.

Let's get it over with. Fine.

(both moaning)

My mother used to tell me to always use two condoms when you have sex.

The second one always had to be bigger.

It looked like a wind sock. That's so stupid.

Each condom would cause the other one to break.

A fact discovered, astraddle, in the summer after 12th grade, by a nice girl named Auden who had no quarrel with anyone.

She ran screaming from our rec room.

Of course, you had sex in your rec room.

We had a Nutone intercom system.

The master control was in the kitchen.

My parents could listen and talk to any room in the house from there.

I used to call the kitchen "The Eagle's Nest." (moans)

When my father heard Auden wailing, he screamed through the intercom, "What the fuck is going on down there?"

I said what happened.

There was a pause, and then my mother said, "Dinner's ready."

Your mother cooked?

On the off-chance that we are making a baby, do you want a boy or a girl?

You're asking me this now?

I'm killing time.

Uh, a boy.

(sniffs) My mother actually told me there's a way to get a boy.

Oh, this ought to be good. Yeah.

At the moment of climax, just shout out, "Oh, boy! Oh, boy!"

(laughs) Can we please stop talking about your mother.

But I don't know why you'd possibly want a boy, considering, you know, the baseline quality of your relationships with men.

Oh. What, revenge?

(both groaning)

Oh, Jesus, Frank!

Jesus effing Christ!

(moaning loudly)

Oh, God, you look like you're gonna throw up!

Why would I? You're a very attractive woman.

Not from that.

Oh, right, sorry.

Oh, God!

No! No, no, no, no!

No? No, not "no."

I'm just a very negative person.


I'm expressing incredulity!

Got it. (screams)

No! Ah!

No! No! No! No! No!

Oh, boy! Oh, boy!

Oh, boy!

Yeah! Oh, boy!

(both moaning)

Anytime, pal.

Can you not talk right now?


It's gonna get cold out. No, it won't.

Yes, it will. It's the Paso Robles Diurnal.

There's sweeping wind temperatures.

Don't you know anything about meteorology?

No! (groans)

Oh, God. Kelp.

Help? No, kelp.

There's kelp at or near my vagina.

Oh, that's grass. We're in grass.

How is that better?

You put the ocean in my head with the fucking crabs.

(moaning loudly)



(continues moaning)


(breathes heavily)


I had a purse.

(Lindsay) Do you want a drink?

I want all the drinks poured directly down my gullet.

Why don't we go to your room and crack open your minibar?

Why don't we go to your room and crack open your goddamn minibar?

Frank. We're alive.

What does that have to do with anything?

(Lindsay) ♪ Oh, Danny boy, the pipes ♪

(both singing) ♪ The pipes are calling ♪

(Lindsay) ♪ From glen to glen ♪ (Frank) ♪ From glen ♪

(together) ♪ And down the mountainside ♪

(Frank) How do you know the words to this? (Lindsay) Come on.

♪ The summer's gone ♪

(Frank) ♪ Summer's gone And all the... ♪

(Lindsay) ♪ Flowers are dy... ♪

(Frank) ♪ Dying ♪

(Lindsay) ♪ 'Tis you, 'tis you Must go ♪

♪ And I must bide... ♪ (Frank) What?

(Lindsay) ♪ But come ye back ♪

(woman on TV) But at some point, don't you think it just starts to look a little ridiculous?

Think about it, this guy was formally the head of the committee...

(Lindsay) "Formerly," not "form-ally."

I know, it's appalling.

Seriously, the chocolate?

We're not going to drink without eating. Alcoholics do that.

The chocolate is the most expensive thing in the minibar besides the...

(wine cork pops) wine.

Would you rather we had ordered room service?

Definitely not.

I spoke to the front desk.

They add a delivery fee, a 17 percent gratuity, and some sort of fuckin' cover charge, like we're in Italy.

I've always wondered why they give you two glasses even when you're traveling alone.

Because one would be so sad.

Here's to... What?

Please. (glasses clink)

It's not hashish.

I'm not wearing anything under my pajamas.

Why would you? They're so alluring.

I didn't think I was gonna be intimate this weekend.

Or any weekend.

Superman couldn't see through those pajamas.

So you tried.

People have jousted in lighter clothing.

Frank? Present.

When you said before that I was an attractive woman, what did you mean?

What do you mean what did I mean?

You're an attractive woman. You're physically appealing.

Can you be more specific?

Your facial features subscribe to the Golden Ratio.


One to the quantity one half times radical five plus one.

The Golden Ratio.

You can tell that?

It's an estimate.

And you have The Folds of Aphrodite.

What are the Folds of Aphrodite?

That's the name of the particular, graceful way that the cheeks of beautiful women arrange themselves when they smile.

There's a gentle creasing that begins at the cheekbone and runs downward, in a slightly arced diagonal, directing the eye to the mouth.

It's aesthetically thrilling.

Well... I've never heard the term

"Folds of Aphrodite."

I coined it.

Then it's not a real thing.

Then it and you are bullshit.

I googled around and there was no name for it so I coined it.

It's established now. Bullshit.

In my experience, there's at least a 90 percent correlation between beautiful women and women who have The Folds of Aphrodite. Oh...

The Folds cut across races and ethnicities.

What else about me?


(sighs) you're slender, but not to the point of a troubled relationship with food.

That's actionable profiling, right there.

File a grievance.

And your curves are very sexy but not vulgar.

Everything very much in proportion, firm but not overly, which I've always found weird and prepossessing.

Your arms bespeak physical fitness and athleticism, but nothing sapphic.

(scoffs) And your ankles quietly aver that you will keep your body well into later age.

(scoffs) It's despicable the way men look at women.

In short, you are beautiful, graceful, and elegant.

Also, you don't dress in an overtly sexy way.

You seem to understand that dressing sexy is actually the opposite of being sexy, that certain information should have to be earned, rather than given away for free to anyone and everyone who passeth by your doorstep.

(scoffs) If this were 1732.

I'm giving you a compliment.

You're calling me a prude.

I'm suggesting that you've taken the high road.

Even in this flagrant, flaunting day and age, you have chosen to preserve the mystery.

Yes, the pajamas go too far, but I applaud the ethos.

Would you like to know about you? No.

Yes, you would.

You're very handsome.

You have powerful eyes.

Your hair will never be a problem.

The corners of your mouth touch but do not cross the vertical lines which bisect your eyes.

In profile, your chin extends exactly the same as your lower lip, which is an ideal.

Bodily, you feel strong and substantial, sinuous but not wiry.

Sartorially, you get high marks.

You tuck in your shirts because you realize that tails out is a ridiculous way to dress.

You wear your pants low, and your shoes are legitimate.

And you have a beautiful penis.

I do?

Oh, come on, Frank.

Surely people have told you that your entire life.


Well, it's very nice.

It's straight, and you would not believe how epidemic a problem that is.

Also, it's balletically formed.

It's not so big as to ever be a cause for concern, but it's big enough never to be the object of ridicule or scorn.

You're in a very sweet spot there.

Are you saying that Keith's penis is not straight?

Can you imagine that we would have gone this entire weekend without saying these things to each other?

"Balletically formed"? That's right.

(sighs) People are ridiculous and pathetic.

Animals, that's all.

We want to believe that there's some high-minded, cosmic meaning behind love, but the truth is we're drawn to, and make most of our decisions based upon, shapes we find appealing, and colors and textures and smells and tastes and spatial relations.

It's so stupid.

This is pretty good.

I mean, when I think about what people look like when they kiss or have sex, I want to vomit.

You almost did vomit.

I mean, there's nothing beautiful or transcendent about being human.

Ultimately, it's just a filthy business of a revolting species trying to survive.

I mean, if you've ever really watched another person eat, or seen yourself in a mirror taking a shit, or walked through South Coast Plaza, you know exactly what I'm talking about.

But I had my eyes open when I was fucking you, and I thought we must have looked pretty good.

My father thought he had a good golf swing.



(clears throat)

Do a groove chew.

I'm sorry?

It's a style of chewing used when you're really enjoying something that you don't have very often.

Like this. (clears throat)



This is a thing? I coined it.

And you're not embarrassed?

All right, just come on. Just try.

Mmm... Mm.

Mmm! Mmm-mm!

Can you groove swallow? You can.

Can we groove swallow now? Okay, fine.

(both swallow loudly)


Huh? Uh...

(man on TV) I remember the first time I ever saw you.

It was a partial nephrectomy.

You were standing in for Dr. Sumner who had an emergency.

With your cap and mask, all I could see were your eyes.

And I remember thinking... thank God.

Because anything more would be too much to bear.

Stop worrying about fucking each other and start saving the people who are dying in your hospital.

Your patient has a snake in his urethra.

You should all lose your licenses.

When my time comes, I will sign a DNR.

I won't. I want to be resuscitated.

I want to be intubated, revived, retrieved, and prolonged.

I want them to zap me with clappers and inject my heart with that long needle of adrenaline... whatever it takes.

What? But, what if there's no hope?

There's already no hope.

But what if you're just a burden to your family and, by extension, the entire health-care system?

Won't give a shit.

I want them to stave off death.

I don't care if there's turnips with better brain-wave patterns.


But I thought you hated life.

I do, but I'm going to be dead for a long time, so there's no rush.

Do you want to have children?

I'd rather be dead in a ditch.


I mean, why would I do that to those poor souls?

Well, for the same reason you want to be resuscitated.

Because being, as bad as it is, is better than not being.

This is a horrible place to be.

Central California, or the whole thing?

I'm already alive. I already know shit.

But unborn children are none the wiser and deserve to be protected from certain things, like being alive in the first place.

That makes no sense.

Living was not my choice. It was my mother's.

Have you ever heard of anything more selfish?

I hope I'm not pregnant. That's all I'm saying.

Why did your father leave your mother?

Because he could.

Because he had the power of locomotion.

Why did she keep and hyphenate both her divorced last names?

Because she thought it made her sound aristocratic.

Also, this way she gets all her mail.

And what would you say is the major barrier to a warm relationship between you and your half-brother?

He's a douchebag. Why are you asking me these questions?

Just... I don't know.

I'm just evaluating your qualifications as an ongoing love interest.

Not that I'm advocating that.

Clearly, you're an emotional cripple, as am I.

I don't have any qualifications as an ongoing love interest and neither do you.

But love interest is too strong a word.

I, um... Affection.

Interest. Tolerance interest.

This isn't going to be ongoing.

What, you've just decided that unilaterally?

For both our sakes. I don't get a say?

No, you have terrible judgment in this regard.

(scoffs) What, but... I...

My head is finally clear, thanks to you.

I mean, I haven't thought about Keith since the mountain lion.

So you admit it was a mountain lion.

Do you have any idea how huge this is for me?

If it's true, the mountain lion and I are happy to have performed that service.

But now, apparently, no good deed goes unpunished.

I think I finally have closure.

I don't trust that statement and neither should you.

But you want to.

You don't just jump from one love object to another.

Tolerance object. That's how mistakes are made.

All I make are mistakes.

At least this one would be fun.

Are you having fun right now?

Yes. I mean, we're kind of arguing, but there's hope.

This is an interlude.

A weekend.

A small oasis of time in which we can taste intimacy like it's a piece of free salami at Trader Joe's.

Why not? You're in the store anyway, and you forgot to eat breakfast, and it tastes okay, and afterwards there's no salami fallout.

When no one's looking, you just drop the toothpick onto the floor.

Man, you're not one of the... Do you do that?

Well, there's no garbage pails in that place, and it's unsanitary to put the toothpick on the receptacle napkin.

All right, le... just... Okay.

Just... I'm just devil's advocate.

Maybe... (clears throat) just what if, okay?

What if it's more?

What if there actually is something to the idea of a destination wedding?

What if we've been thinking about this whole thing backwards?

What if...

I know, but what if our real destination was each other?

What if you never say that again?

What if happiness is... contagious?

Why would you think that meeting someone has anything to do with being happy?


Once upon a time, I met someone, and I was happy... I thought.

Personally, I'd be worried if my life philosophy began with "Once Upon a Time."

Well, I was raised by optimists.

But you have a preponderance of counter-evidence.

Were you not watching your own engagement?

How could I have been? What's wrong with you?

Nothing. Sometimes I just willfully reject irony.

You are doomed.

Maybe we saved each other, Frank.

I mean, did you ever think about it like that?

No. Neither should you.

I wonder how many people met at weddings and then went on to... Thirty-two.

Why not, you know, extend the oasis?

A good day here, a good day there, pretty soon you're just talking about a couple of good days.

What time does our flight land tomorrow night?

I don't know, about 7:30?

I will extend it until tomorrow at about 7:30.

Well, there's no point in extending it another four seconds if you're not gonna keep your mind open to the possibilities.

Why do people need the dangled carrot of a future?

Because we do.

Because connection is precious, therefore, it is immoral to just treat each other like dalliances, even if that's what we wind up being.

But that's exactly what we wind up being.

Permanence is a myth, an a... an illusion.

Well, I didn't say anything about permanence.

I was speaking of a slightly lengthier temporariness.

What's the point?

I just told you what the point was.

But when it's over, you're right back at square zero.

I will not keep my mind open.

(scoffs) Well, then just keep it open to the possibility of keeping it open.



Oh, wow. That's... I... I'm almost, I'm almost...

You know what, if you can't or won't, then you simply can't or won't.

That's my blanket. (mocking) "That's my blanket."

You might want to shake out the Pringle fragments.

"You might want to shake out the Pringle fragments."

If you want to leave, just say so.

I very much want to leave. Say it again.

You debate like a child.

You eat like a raccoon.

You're fucking up.

How about if I keep my mind open to the possibility of keeping my mind open to the possibility of keeping my mind open?

That is just one metalevel too removed.

Come on.

Get back into bed.

Let's find out who the nephrologist is sleeping with.


But only until the next commercial break.

And with no sexual reprise.

And only because I do want to know who the nephrologist is sleeping with.



(man on TV) When I look at you, I don't see smallpox.

And it's "re-prize."

It's "re-preeze."

"Re-prize." It's... "re-preeze." (scoffs)



(quick snort)


(quick snort)

(quick snort)



(quick snort)

(snoring) (knocking)

(Lindsay sighs)


Jesus, is it Kristallnacht?

Oh, it's housekeeping.

They're not going to get that reference.

(knocking continues)

Mas retardos!

Ah... (speaking foreign language)

Oh... You shouldn't be in here.

This is my room.

Then I shouldn't be in here.


How did I wind up in this position?

You made some poor life choices.

No, in this position. I'm half off the bed.

(groans) Why is my nose bleeding?

I think I have a spinal injury. (groans)

You feel pregnant?

I wouldn't know.

What's your gut say?

What it always says.

"Don't listen to me."

But if you did listen?

I don't feel any different, if that's what you mean.

Good. How is that good?

Why would you want me to perpetuate my general circumstances?

You can do anything you want with your circumstances.

I was thinking of my circumstances.

Which are so wonderful.

We shouldn't have spent the night together.

You wouldn't let me leave.

I didn't want it to end on a bad note.

Also, you're in the next room.

It would have been spectacularly awkward.

(scoffs) As opposed to this.

We tried, okay? We did.

But at some point there's just not enough optimism left inside a person to sustain something like this, you know?

You broken preacher, me broken choir.

I think it's important we recognize that and verbalize it openly, so as to avoid any discomfort.

Oh. Mission accomplished.


Do you have everything?

Oh, um... Yeah.

I think, uh, my...

Can we still hang together at the farewell brunch?

Uh, who else am I gonna hang with?

Although I suppose I could hang with myself.

Well, I'm going to shove some tissues up my nostrils and take a shower.

Sounds like good-bye to me.

(bird cawing)

(patrons chattering)

Well, what do you think, about time we head to the airport?

It's really close.

Fifteen minutes.

Well, our flight's not for... Five hours.

There could be traffic. Why take chances?

Then we should just say our good-byes.

(together) Good-bye.

Want your farewell gift?

The farewell is my gift, but please, take mine.

Who was San Luis Obispo, anyway?

And what the fuck did he do to become a saint?

Thirteenth Century Bishop of Toulouse.

Served the poor, left the Church, and died of typhus.

That's all it takes?

It was in the welcome basket.

Why would you canonize a guy who left the Church?

Why look to France when you're naming a city in California?

And what the fuck happened with the urban planning here?

At some point, did they just give up? Right.

On the off, off chance that I ever have a wedding, I would never make anyone travel to it.

I don't think you'll have to worry about that.


Because you're a decent person.

Not because you won't get married.

Oh, come on.

Why do we live, Frank?

Oh, Jesus Christ.

I'm serious.

The work we do isn't meaningful in any great sense.

The connections we make invariably fall to ruin.

Everything we build burns to the ground.

Meaning is a myth, like you've said, so why do we live?

I was so enjoying the silence.

It has to be that the myth isn't a myth for everyone.

Well, it's certainly a myth for those two. Look at them.

They'd rather burst into flames than to fuck each other.

You don't know that. Oh, yes, I do.

It's possible that within the myth, there's a sliver of truth, and you have to believe in that sliver wholeheartedly, come what may, despite the rational mind, because if you... if you don't, the myth just reveals itself to be a myth, and meaninglessness becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy.

Try as I might, I cannot get behind wine in screw-top bottles.

Also, you have to encourage others to believe in the myth.

Because if they believe, they can do anything.

They can laugh, cry, hope, vote, get married.

But if they don't, they can't do anything, I mean not really, except make themselves as shallowly happy and comfortable as possible.

Which is just vanity, let's face it.

For me, wine in a screw-top will always carry the stench of chintziness.

(sighs) What if we're falling in love?

Don't get me wrong, I'm not a big fan of cork.

You ever see it on a wall or in the heels of an espadrille?


But for wine, it conveys a certain necessary élan.

What if love comes for everyone?

(sighs) Don't be absurd.

What if no one is immune, not even us?

Stop it.

It would be remiss not to embrace the miracle.

What happened between us was not a miracle.

It was actually much closer to a debacle.

Maybe that's what you meant. Oh, come on.

You don't find it miraculous that two people like us forged any kind of bond?

I find it "debaculous."

It was a miracle.

It required forever being seated together.

It required an adjoining door and a near-death experience.

What are you waiting for, a burning bush?

I can't believe you're bringing this up again.

I thought we had an understanding.

We had come to an agreement.

We're less than an hour away from parting as friends.

Okay, but deep down, in your broken, miserable gut, don't you want something that's pure and in its own grotesque way, beautiful?


Don't you want to secretly have a romantic life that confirms your hopes instead of your cynicism?


Don't you want to believe that things like this actually do happen?

Nope. I'm fond of my cynicism.

It's very comfortable.

Like a warm blanket of your own shit. Yes. Yes.

I'm very comfortable and warm in my fucking warm blanket of fucking shit.

But what if we're falling in love?

Dear God...

I mean, what if this is what it's like?

It would end in disaster.

What if it didn't? It would.

I know. Good.

But... Stop.

Ah... Stop.

But... (hocking phlegm)

(continues hocking phlegm)



This is not funny. Don't laugh at me, please.

I'm laughing out of affection.

No one laughs at another person out of affection.

You laugh at another person out of contempt.

No. I'm laughing 'cause it's cute.

It is? Yes.

But, fine, I'll stop laughing.

Thank you.

Frank? Yes?

(clears throat) Don't you, like, have an instinct about me?


I think you do.

You're the one who said your gut can't be trusted.

That's true.

For a long time, it's been a lying bitch.

But I would have been willing to give it another shot.

Why? I mean, how much shit has to fall on your head before you start wearing a hat?

You can't die from jumping out of a basement window.

Of course you can. You can hit your head on a pipe or something.


You're going to wish you embraced the miracle, Frank.

You're gonna wish you had.

How are your pants, John Wayne Bobbitt?

Sticky. (giggles)

We shouldn't exchange contact information.

There's no point.

I think I just said that.

It was very nice to meet you.

It was very nice to meet you too.

I know what you're going to say...

"It's not you, it's me." No, it's you.

(laughs) It's me.

Yeah. I know.

It's you. I... Yep.


I liked the bow though.

Why didn't we meet seven years ago, Frank?

Just lucky, I guess.

(Lindsay) 14 Catalina Drive, Newport Beach, please?

What are you doing? Don't give your exact address.

You don't know who the driver is.

Thank you for caring.

I don't. I would've said the same to anyone.

We're holding up the line, Frank.

There are other people in the world.

There are?

Do you have a whistle?

(people chattering on TV)

(man) And then taxation.

(man 2) We get shut down every single time by your...

(man 1) Idea you have so far. (man 2) No, no, no.

Can I speak? Can I speak?

(man 1) Please. (man 2) Because of your...

Hold on. Hold on. That's what I...

Just wait a second, all right? I'm working on it.

(conversation continues)

(woman on TV) It's the guys who stand by in all their philosophies and all their ideas and everything that they represent.

(man) They're talking about the silent majority.

(man 2) I don't know. I mean, listen, if you look at the facts again... (man) Hold on.

They're having a sidebar here. Hold on.

(man 2) How can we even bring that up at this point?

(woman) But what fact? (man) In the media.

You're not getting paid here.

(woman) You have got to look at what your guy did too.

(man) Oh, really? There it is again.

There's the same thing right there.

It's the same response for the other side. Yeah.

Yeah, but never mind because your guy was worse...

(indistinct conversation continues)

(indistinct conversation continues)

(doorbell rings)

(hocking phlegm)