Having taken out the team from Texas (for which we got many thanks and free drinks in the contestant "social" the previous day), Team Carmukka stood on the mat as the first team to depart for the second leg of the race.
Phil's voiceover: As the first team to arrive at 3:34 p.m., they are now the first to depart, at 3:34 a.m.
Kukka was still snoring, so it was up to me to rip open the envelope. (Ripping noise)
I read it aloud, so the napping Kukka could hear. "Make your way to Nice, France!" I was so excited that I woke Kukka, and upon finding out where we were going, she yawned. Then she informed me that Nice was not far from Cannes, where her first film had received rave reviews.
Once there, we were to find our way to the marche de fleurs (which I, having taken 4 years of French and found it useless, knew meant flower market) and look for the flag made out of yellow and red roses. We could choose from any flight, so the sooner we got to the airport, the better. So we jumped into a taxi and headed towards Dulles International Airport.
Hot on our tails, or actually, just Kukka's tail, was the second team to arrive. They departed at 3:59 a.m., and even at that time of morning, you could hear the gum smacking and ass scratching. They'd earned the nickname "Kentucky."
"Oooh. We're going to a place called Nice, honey. I bet the people there will be real nice to us. Especially with all the boobage I have hanging out of my tank top!" The wife of the husband and wife-beater team said.
"What’s this here march-ee days floors?" The wife-beater-wearing, stubbly-chinned man asked.
Meanwhile, Kukka's treats had been confiscated by airport security – something about them having liquids inside and that wasn't allowed. PLUS, they took my LIP GLOSS, which I use to smooch Phil's luscious lips, so neither one of us were in a good mood. As a matter of fact, we were in fightin' moods, which would give us a race advantage.
When we were getting in line to board the plane, we noticed that the sneaky Kentucky team had gotten on the flight with us. Kukka was shocked, and immediately began making plans for their demise. I heard her mutter "just wait until we see that Yield." She seemed a little more perturbed at this team than the others we'd encountered, and I'd soon find out why.
Once on the plane, we settled in for a nap (and a few whisky sours at $5 a pop!) as we crossed the Atlantic. Since Kukka was a special needs traveler (with her cage), we were able to quickly deplane and get a head start. We found a very hot, French, taxi driver and asked him – si vous plait – to take us to the flower market.
Kukka and I were distracted for a few minutes by the nude sunbathers on the rocky beaches of the Mediterranean, but after lolling our tongues for a while, we pulled it together and found the red and yellow roses/flags. Actually, one of the hot Frenchmen had offered us the roses, and we had to ask him in broken French where he’d gotten them. He showed us, and we found the clue box.
Phil’s Voice: A roadblock is a task that only one team member may perform. In this task, the teams would be taken to a local gym were they will have to wrestle a Frenchman and pull the clue out of his pants. We wasted much time arguing about who would have the honor to perform this task, but due to claw marks and Kukka's experience as a wrestler in the past, I "let" her have this one. We'd have to share the road blocks anyway.
To make a long story short, there were a lot of tummy rubs (great ploy, Kukka!) and then, to the Frenchman’s surprise, his pants were shredded and the clue – along with his dignity – fell upon the floor. Kukka sauntered over and picked it up, and read to me our next clue.
"We are to take the TGV to Paris, where we will find an accordion player playing 'La Vie en Rose.' There, we will have to see who is hungry for the win."
As we boarded the train as we saw "Kentucky" running to try and catch it, but when the Kentucky woman nearly dropped everything she was carrying, and the Kentucky man started ogling the French women, thinking how fertile they may be, they had no hope of catching us.
A mere three hours later, we were in Paris, opening another clue with the accordion man. We had seen no other teams at this point, other than Kentucky, so we figured that we were in a good place. An even better place, when we saw the clue. It was a detour.
Phil’s Voice: A detour is a choice between two tasks, each with it’s own pros and cons. In this task, the teams can chose from Crepes or Crap. In Crepes, each team must eat their team’s body weight in chocolate crepes. It’s not a physical challenge, but could take a while. In Crap, teams must run through the city’s underground sewer lines to find several clues. The task is more physical, but certainly smells bad.
Kukka and I simultaneously yelled "Crepes!" because we can do nothing if not eat. And Kukka seemed more than willing to pick up any slack, since I weighed more than she did. Plus, I loved me some crepes!
We made fine order of those crepes, too. I think the French were even surprised. We were pretty sick after, though. Which I think is the REAL reason French Women Don't Get Fat, but that’s neither here or there. The French waiter handed us our clue.
"Proceed to the Pit Stop, located on the top floor of the Eiffel Tower. The last team to arrive may be eliminated."
Kukka and I looked at each other and found ourselves overly excited about our next stop with Phil.
We conned . . . I mean sweet-talked our way to the front of the line for the Eiffel Tower tickets, and rushed to get on the double-decker elevator and get to the top. Awaiting us, as the sun sank into the horizon, was Phil. >His hair blew in the wind, and his eyes sparkled with the colors of the setting sun. We ran, as if in slow motion, toward the pit stop mat, but more importantly, Phil's outstretched arms. Lip gloss or not, I planted one on him, and Kukka got a lengthy tummy rub, so we didn’t even hear the prize for being FIRST in this leg of the race.
As the other teams crossed the mat, we began to wonder what happened to Kentucky, who had been so close behind for much of the race. As it turns out, they had picked the crap roadblock, and had managed to find both of their careers. Thus, they were eliminated.
I’d never seen Kukka so joyous about anyone’s demise before. It seems she and Ms. Kentucky had a run-in previously, and there was some bad blood.