Jared is not unlike a Gremlin. Feed him alcohol after midnight, and you’re in for a very, very bad time. He continues to berate Kyle, ostensibly for spilling tobacco on the deck. It’s definitely not because he’s jealous of the time he’s spending with Jared’s possible one true love, Barbie; why would you think that? How dare you? He even manages to wake up the captain, not once but twice, which, considering the unforgiving schedules these people keep, is basically an act of violence.
Barbie and Kyle (his job is boat) finally get to watch their movie, snuggled up together in her bunk. “You’re a beautiful girl; love your work,†he tells her when he leaves in the morning, which is all I ever want to hear from anyone in any context. Meanwhile, Ben and Sunny have sex in the shower, or so some moan-y, frankly none-of-my-business audio over a shot of the closed bathroom door wants us to believe.
The next morning, our bosun appears to be even more of a mess than usual. Jared is like Pig-Pen, except instead of dust he’s followed by a constant cloud of frustration and confusion. Captain Kerry, P.I., tries to piece together the events of the previous night through separate conversations with Kyle and Barbie, edited together like a little baby Rashomon. Cinéma!
Finally, it’s time for Jared to get acquainted with the consequences of his actions. There is no front on which Jared has not fucked up at work: basic logistics, safety, inappropriate interpersonal conflict. This kind of behavior from someone in a leadership role is unacceptable, Kerry tells him. “Okay,†Jared responds. “Um.†Not that there was anything he could have said to vindicate himself by this point, anyway: He’s fired. I think Kerry, who’s been both patient and abundantly clear about his expectations with Jared, handled this as best he could. To keep Jared on the boat would be a “disservice†to him. Everyone gathers to wish Jared a friendly farewell — Barbie hugs him good-bye and tells him to go meet his daughter.
White smoke emerges from the bridge, in accordance with ancient tradition: A new bosun is chosen. Ben, formerly lead deckhand, has evolved into his final form, and he seems awfully happy about it.
The interior isn’t without its own personnel problems. Cat can’t properly fluff a pillow; her surfaces are unwiped; her sheets are half-heartedly ironed. She is the Amelia Bedelia of the high seas, without ever producing an all-redeeming lemon meringue pie to save the day. On the one hand, she does a bad job, but on the other, she also does it very slowly.
A friend of Cat’s calls her, crying and freaking out, and Cat takes the phone into the bathroom to continue the conversation privately. She doesn’t share anything about the situation, but it’s obvious that this has significantly worsened her already tenuous emotional state.
Miscellaneous family revelations: Barbie’s mom is a sex therapist whose job sounds like it involves more sex dolls than I necessarily would have expected. Fraser’s sister is currently flashing her “huge knockers†at Mardi Gras, as is her right. Fraser sweetly sings Anthony’s praises in French to his mother on a video call.
To Captain Kerry’s credit, he’s pitching in to help bridge the gaps while they’re understaffed, busting his ass carrying chairs around like a man of the people when their new charter begins. Loading up their provisions takes even longer than usual — Ben points out that, as always, there are so, so many eggs. Why are there so many eggs? Is Below Deck a convenient international waters cover for a money-laundering scheme or illegal chicken-breeding operation?
Primary guest Lesley is beautiful, make no mistake, but I would be failing you if I did not mention her hairstyle: sunburned fourth grader on a Caribbean vacation braids at the temples with a Drybar Southern Comfort-style blowout taking up the rear. (Business in the back, party on the sides?) A mortgage professional, she is so enthusiastic about what a great time it is to buy a house right now that I am prepared for her to start staring into the camera to pitch us viewers directly.
Ben’s reign is off to a good start. Even though the exterior is down a member, undocking somehow manages to go much more smoothly in Jared’s absence. Sunny, who has apparently already dated a boss of hers in the past, is just happy she gets to drive the tender around. Kyle blows up an inflatable that sounds like a screaming fart. The guests ride Jet Skis while, back on board, Cat drops various things onto the floor.
For their first dinner, the guests request surf and turf — no French food, please. (“Oh. Okay,†Anthony says.) Barbie obliges their request for a Mardi Gras theme by climbing onto the table to scatter some masks, beads, and a few meekly flashing lights around. She hates it. The guests, however, love it. (So far, the worst thing about them might be that some of them call Fraser “Fletcher†or, possibly annoying him even more, “Frazier,†with an extra vowel sound jammed in there.)
The next morning, Cat fully loses her composure when Xandi (gently) confronts her about misplacing the cleaning caddy and failing to answer her radio. “I’m fucking done, dude,†she tearfully tells Barbie, otherwise occupied with eating an apple. “I’m over this shit.†Does she want to talk about it? No? Well, okay. Barbie resumes snacking. Cat flees to her cabin. She sobs behind the closed door of her bathroom for the third time in this episode of a liminal place of secrets and intense emotion. I repeat: Cinéma!
Fraser comes to see her and suggests it’s time to put her mental health first. Weeping in his arms, she agrees. And so her tenure on the St. David ends not with a bang but a (literal) whimper. In many ways I am very sympathetic, as someone whose own brain occasionally requires me to disconnect and reconnect the battery a few times until the mysterious Check Engine light switches off. I’m also glad, for all our sakes, that she decided to leave. She cries in her post-mortem confessional. She cries as she steps off the boat. She cries as she boards the water taxi. Sometimes, on a clear night, they say you can still hear her sniffles carried on the ocean breeze.
Oh, Cat, we hardly knew ye. I wish you well and I hope you’re doing better. “That’s the way it goes,†says Ben in what passes for a professional eulogy. “That’s yachting, mate.†Forget it, Jake. It’s Below Deck.
Hopefully the staffing service is running a BOGO special this week. With two crew members gone, the St. David is operating on double hard mode. But at least for now, the guests are happy, mainlining approximately three dozen eggs each — plus they got to witness and gossip extensively about a crew member mysteriously departing the vessel, which would be the highlight of my vacation.