- Taxi!
In autumn, New Yorkers treat every nice day
as if it could be their last.
I'd have another if you would, what do you say?
You're a bad influence.
I waited and waited.
You said to meet you at the subway.
I was at the subway. I was at the foot of the stairs.
You was at the subway? You was in the subway--
Oh, you don't know how to give directions! I waited...
-This is going to be us in 30 years. -Please don't say that.
-I'm kidding. That could never be us. -That already was us, remember?
Yeah, but that was then.
Okay, so for the future...
-...I don't want to become that.
Okay. I don't want you to worry about becoming that.
Okay.
I won't.
-All right. -Anything else we don't want?
Yeah. I don't want you paying for these beers.
-I'm serious.
Your turn.
Okay.
-I don't want to become your mother. -That's a good one.
I don't want to slack off like I used to.
I don't want to be so moody. This is fun.
I don't want to lose you again.
Even if I screw up all the other stuff,
that's the one that matters.
I don't want to lose you either.
Will you marry me?
Are you serious?
Yes.
Will you?
Hell yeah.
Some couples have to say their I don'ts
before they can ever imagine saying their I dos.
Eighty blocks and a world away,
I was enjoying a different kind of happy hour
at Aleksandr Petrovsky's.
That's pretty. What is that?
-Oh.
This is a little tune I've made up for you.
-What? -Mmm-hmm.
-No, you didn't. -Yes, I did.
Which means "a woman with luminous and shining, sparkling eyes."
That is the cheesiest thing I have ever heard in my life. ick!
I know. I can't even look at you all right now. I'm so embarrassed.
Well, it all sounds very old world to me. Very 18th century Russia.
Yes, and I live in New York City circa now.
I think it's romantic if someone offers me a seat on the subway.
That is romantic.
We are just starved for real romance and that is the sad truth.
I'm not starved. Smith is in LA for the week
and he calls me every night before he goes to sleep.
Phone sex doesn't count.
Well, I'm drinking a glass of wine while we do it.
I want to hear more about the romance. What else? What else did he do?
Well, there was one more thing but if you I tell you,
it will be the ick heard round the world.
It will not.
You know the song that he wrote for me?
Yeah. ick.
Well, it had a name.
The woman with eyes that...
Sparkle?
-What's French for ick? -Eyck!
And I swear to you while he was playing it,
I, I floated up out of my body
and I was on the ceiling looking down at myself thinking...
"Come on!"
He was just expressing genuine emotion in an old fashioned way.
But it's not genuine. It's pure show.
I can't stand all that artificial hoo-ha.
That's why I proposed to Steve over $3 beers.
You proposed?
You proposed marriage?
Okay. Everybody stop. It's not a big deal. I'm not engaged.
I'm not doing the big circus wedding.
There will be no white dress or bridesmaids or posed pictures.
I hate all that shit.
Well, that's your choice. Every bride has to find her own style.
When is it going to be?
As soon as I can find some place that doesn't make me hurl.
It's just going to be a simple, nothing thing.
I don't even care about the wedding.
I just want to be with Steve.
-Oh, Miranda. -Okay.
This is exactly what I don't want.
No tears.
Oh, my God.
I can't believe it.
That's it. You're all freaking me out.
Samantha, I expected more from you.
He just felt inspired to write her a song and then he played it for her.
Isn't that the most romantic thing you've ever heard?
Yeah. Not bad.
I used to play clarinet when I was little.
This is so good! You have to have some.
Doesn't that taste like real butter pecan?
Okay. If that's what we're playing, sure.
I can pretend this whipped flavored air is the real thing.
-Yum.
I mean, it's like something out of a Victorian novel.
People just don't do those things anymore.
Hey, I can be romantic too, you know.
Oh, honey, I know you can.
I think it's romantic that you walk me to the Tasti D-Lite every night.
Don't humor me.
I know how to do romance right. It's not just for foo-foo foreigners.
-In fact... -Mmm.
In fact, I am going to take you out for a real romantic night on the town.
Mmm-hmm. Wining and dining baby.
-Really? -You bet.
Let me get another lick of that.
-Mmm. -Okay.
I don't want to make a big entrance. I don't want everyone staring at me.
And from licking to lugging...
I just want it to feel like us. Like...
Not like one of those millions of cookie-cutter weddings
I've had to suffer through.
How do we do that?
What about one of those boat rides that goes all around the island?
That's different.
We're not boat people.
When have we ever been on a boat together, ever?
Okay.
You got a better idea?
Shit!
Oh, shit.
-Oh! -This is so us. We are pathetic.
This gum is like super glue. Look at this.
You see? We're bad people, not boat people.
We should get married right here, in this mess.
We're going to have to if I can't get this gum off.
Hey.
That's a nice garden.
Yeah. It's pretty.
But not corny.
What do you think?
I don't hate it.
The only thing harder than choosing a spot for your wedding
when you hate weddings...
What about a guestbook?
Is choosing a wedding gift for your friend who hates weddings.
Sweetie, there's going to be like eight of us there.
There's no one to keep track of.
I can't believe Miranda's getting married.
-This is pretty. -Oh, she'll hate that. Too domestic.
And too bridey.
Yeah. Let's try not to piss her off.
Well, maybe we should just buy her a stapler and wrap it in brown paper
and just smear some dog poo on it.
You think she'd be comfortable with that?
Fine. We'll get the dish.
Ladies.
I have something to tell you.
And you're not going to like it.
If you get married and leave me all alone, I will kill you.
As you know I have always loved my body just the way it is.
My legs are fantastic, I have killer abs. My ass is perfection.
Is this the part we're not going to like?
But I have decided after careful consideration,
that I might be ready for bigger boobs.
Since when?
Since I had a cold hard dose of reality.
From this. Look.
You're in In Touch magazine?
-And that's your source of reality? -Yes.
They named Smith Jerrod the number one hot guy to watch.
They followed him all over town for a week. I'm in half the pictures.
See. There are my boobs on Wednesday. See how small they are?
There they are again on Thursday. Teeny tiny.
And there they are having lunch. You can barely see them.
I should have bought my loop.
I can't believe you would actually consider having a boob job.
I can't believe you went to Planet Hollywood.
You are a confident intelligent woman. Why would you want to look like a bimbo?
I wouldn't be getting the watermelon freak show kind.
I'd get something tasteful. Something like...
Yours.
Yours are good.
-Mine? -Hmm.
-Thank you. -What's wrong with mine?
Well, they're not bad either.
-Let's see. -Okay! All right.
-Get hers!
No.
A few days later the rain came.
Listen, you'll like this poem.
Poem?
And so did the poetry.
"So long had a life together been
that once the snow began to fall
it seemed unending.
That least the flakes should make her eyelids wince.
I chilled them with my hand
and they pretending not to believe that cherishing of eyes would beat
against my palm like butterflies."
Yeow.
That is some serious stuff.
Had enough, huh?
No. No, it's beautiful.
How about I read you a little bit of my favorite poetry?
Please.
"Cocktails at Tiffany's calls for classic charm.
Oscar de la Renta, sleeveless silk faille.
Full skirted dress with black patent leather bow belt."
Now that is pure poetry.
Oscar's a good friend of mine.
I'll tell him you like the dress.
Oscar?
You call him Oscar?
It's his name, isn't it?
So you feel uncomfortable with the poetry. Why is that?
Look. I'm sorry.
Perhaps we were not properly introduced.
I write a column based on the assumption
that romance is either dead or just...
-Phony. -You think I'm phony?
No. No, no, not at all. No. I'm the one that feels like a phony.
Frankly, I'm just not used to these grand gestures.
You mean no other man, no one ever...
read you a little poem or...
played a little music for you?
Um...
No.
No, they have not.
Wow.
Okay.
I'm in over my head. Where are you?
Shopping for a wedding dress on my lunch hour.
I said no white, no ivory. No nothing that says virgin.
I have a child.
The jig is up.
Okay, so, yesterday the Russian read me a Russian poem.
-But, you know, in English. -Are you just making this stuff up now?
No. And this might sound crazy, but I don't think it's an act.
I think he actually means it.
That doesn't make it okay.
Has he considered your feelings?
You're right. He's a selfish pig.
I'm serious.
I think you should tell him that this whole romance thing gives you the icks,
turns your stomach and that he's dating you, not Anna Karenina.
Okay, I'll tell him that. I can't tell him that.
And let me ask you something. If you're so anti-romance,
why are you having a wedding at all? Why not just
go down to city hall and get it over with?
You know, I thought about that.
But then I realized I actually do want to say those vows out loud
to Steve in front of the people I care about.
Are you gagging over there?
No, the opposite.
My God, Miranda, you were my cynical touchstone.
Do you promise to still be cynical even after you're married?
I do.
I have got to go. There's a big pile of tutus coming at me.
Okay. We need to have another talk.
One of the great things about living in New York City,
is that you don't have to sugar coat your feelings.
But have New York women settled for a sugar-free existence as well?
We accept Tasti D-Lite instead of real ice cream,
e-mails instead of love songs,
jokes instead of poetry.
It's no wonder that when faced with the real thing,
we can't stomach it.
Is it something we could learn to digest or...
Have we become romance intolerant?
Et puis, for the troisième course, we would like the foie gras,
followed by the boeuf bourguignon avec la légume à la crème.
It was Harry's version of a serenade.
And Charlotte ate it right up.
Et en fin, the plat du fromage.
The plate or the cart? We have a lovely cheese cart.
Mais oui. Bring us the cart.
Tout suite for my sweetie.
I had no idea you could speak French so well, honey.
The French learn romance from me, baby.
Downtown, in the name of boob job research,
-Samantha decided to go... -Yeah, nice.
...where the biggest crop would be on display.
Some were little boobs.
-That's okay. -Not so bad.
Some were big boobs.
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah.
Some were ridiculously big boobs.
Oh, boy.
Okay, that's my wife right there.
And then there were the two biggest boobs of all.
-Right beside her. -Wow!
Can I get you something?
You either have the most naturally beautiful breasts I've ever seen
or I need the name of your doctor.
You want Dr. Bevel. He's the best.
They paid for themselves in tips alone.
Meanwhile, back in the 18th century...
Oh.
I'm sorry. Is this a formal sleepover?
Actually there's an opening at the Met tonight.
It's La Traviata, and you're going with me.
Man, I was this close to throwing on my ball gown but I ignored my instincts.
-All right, I'll go home and change? -No, no, no, could be much faster.
Come in.
Come on, Open it.
Tonight only your poetry, not mine.
From the magazine. You like it?
If I had been on a romance-free diet,
this seemed like a good time to binge.
That was the most romantic, elegant...
Pardon me. That was weird.
Decadent...
-Seven course...
I'm sorry, honey.
-Oh, boy.
Are you okay?
Honey?
Are you going to be long in there?
Uh, maybe.
Oh, definitely. Why?
That's okay. I'll go to the other one.
When you splurge on romantic, seven-course meal,
you generally want to remember every bite.
There was the soup course, the dessert course,
and all the other yummy courses in between.
That's got to be it. I'm done.
Harry and Charlotte had romance shooting out of them every 20 minutes.
Oh, I'm not.
For the rest of the night.
I wouldn't go in there if I were you. It's not pleasant.
I can't make it to the other one.
It's the fucking fromage.
No.
That fucking fromage.
Uh-oh. Oh.
Oh. Look out. I'm coming in.
Surviving a night of food poisoning together
wasn't the stuff of great romance,
but it was the stuff of lasting love.
-The show starts at 7:30. -No, it's eight o'clock, we're fine.
Meanwhile, a funny thing happened on the way to the opera.
Wait, wait.
- What?
This music. This place.
You.
Is it perfect?
Would you dance with me?
It was the most romantic moment.
Stop, stop.
- What? - Oh, my God. That lady fell.
-Hey. Hey, hey, hey. Are you okay? - Is she all right?
You okay?
No. It's too much.
I'm an American.
You gotta take it down a notch.
- Does she need any help? - No, he's got it.
And then a quarter of a pounder with cheese.
Um...
McNuggets.
Would you like to super-size that?
-Can you handle it? -Absolutely.
Absolutely.
I'm sorry about the opera.
Don't be silly. Other time. Other dress.
May I offer you a fry?
-They're French. -Oh, then...
Here you are, thank you.
Mmm...
Mmm.
Okay.
I think I might be up for a quick spin now.
If you'll still have me.
Of course.
That'll be $9.54.
And there, beneath the florescent moonlight,
I was finally laughing with romance and not at it.
And if I went any bigger than this, I think I'd look ridiculous, don't you?
Well, that's not my work. But I did hers.
And hers right before the Golden Globes.
Wow, they're winners.
Other arm, please.
I have an event in two months
that I'd really like to have a little cleavage for.
-Hmm. -Will they be up and running by then?
Miss Jones, you have a lump I'd like you to have checked out
before we begin our work.
It's right here, you can feel it yourself.
Are you kidding?
No, I'm afraid not.
Okay.
But it's not serious, right?
Well, it's probably just a cyst, but we want to be absolutely sure.
I'd like you to have it looked at as soon as possible, okay?
By Miranda's wedding day, I felt the whole world had gone romantic
when Samantha insisted on picking me up in a cab.
What has come over you? This is 100 blocks out of your way.
So, now we're going to 10th and 6th Avenue please.
-Boy, you look nice. -Well, so do you.
Thank you.
So I had my breast consultation with the plastic surgeon.
Please tell me you've changed your mind.
Well, not exactly. He found a lump.
And I had it biopsied, and it turns out I have cancer.
You...
You what? When?
Well, I had it biopsied on Wednesday and I found out yesterday.
I'm going to give you all the information
and I don't want you to get upset
or start worrying and the only reason I'm telling you now and not later
is I didn't want to accidentally blurt out, "I have cancer"
in the middle of Miranda's wedding.
Could you please take fifth? Broadway's a disaster.
Okay. I'm listening.
And please don't tell Charlotte and Miranda.
I don't want to ruin their days too.
Of course, whatever you say.
So, what exactly do you know?
Well, just that there are cancer cells and I had a mammogram
and they think it's small which is a good sign.
And I won't know anything else until they take the fucker out next week.
So there, now you know everything and we can talk about something else.
So do you like my skunk?
Well, thank you for telling me.
Sure.
I'm sorry to put a big cloud over the whole day.
-Samantha. -I know I'm going to be fine.
I know that.
It's just...
I don't want to lose my breasts.
-They're fabulous. -They are.
- For better or worse. - For richer or poorer.
For richer or poorer.
To love and to cherish as long we both shall live.
To love and to cherish for as long we both shall live.
- This is my solemn vow. -This is my solemn vow.
Now Miranda. I Miranda Hobbes.
I Miranda Hobbes.
- Take you, Steve Brady. -Take you, Steve Brady.
- To be my husband. -To be my husband.
Look, Mommy and Daddy are getting married.
- For richer or poorer. -For richer or poorer.
-In sickness and in health. - In sickness and in health.
To love and to cherish as long as we both shall live.
This is my solemn vow. This is my solemn vow.
Do you promise to uphold these vows you've made here today,
witnessed by your closest friends and family?
-I do. -I do.
With the power invested in me by the State of New York,
I now pronounce you husband and wife.
Come on, everybody, it's happy time.
It's happy time.
-Come on. Come on, it's happy time.
The one wedding ritual Miranda never had a problem with
was the part where everyone eats. And so we did.
Samantha, you look so pretty today.
-Thanks. I have cancer. -What?
-Are you all okay with drinks? -No, we're not okay with drinks.
-Keep them coming. -Cool.
-I like the color of your dress. -Oh, thank you.
I admire you for not pretending.
So we're family now and there's something private I want to tell you.
-Oh, you don't have to. -The day I married Steve's father,
I wore white.
But I shouldn't have.
I slipped.
Once. God forgive me.
Don't tell Steve.
When I walked down that aisle at St. Agnes,
I had a white dress on, on the outside and my little Jackie on the inside.
Steve?
Hey. Ma. Still hungry?
Come on. Let's get some chow.
Oh, my God. I am legally bound to Steve's mother.
-Hi again. -Congratulations!
Congratulations!
What? Why are you being weird?
-We're not being weird. -No, we're just talking.
About me, right?
You think I'm an asshole, that I've become one of them.
That I'm a Stepford bride.
-No! -God, no!
Then tell me what you were talking about.
I'll tell you tomorrow. I don't want to ruin your special day.
Forget about my special fucking day and be normal, please. I beg of you.
I have breast cancer.
-What? -See?
Now it's my special fucking day.
You have breast cancer?
Hey, no tears.
Miranda,
I expected more from you.
See, this is what we were afraid of. Go back to your people.
We'll talk about this later.
You are my people and we'll talk about it now.
Now start at the beginning.
You are the bossiest bride in the world.
Yes, I am, and you have to do everything I say.
Oh.
Now start talking.
Okay. Do you remember when I...
For better or for worse,
we were all ourselves that day.
Just the way Miranda wanted it.