Original subtitles

CARRIE: Excuse me.

I am Professor Dong.

I have to use the bathroom.

Well, we're almost there. Can you wait an hour?

No, I, like, really have to go.

Well, there's a rest area up ahead.

It's not far, so...

All right.

(phone chimes and rumbles)

Did you post a video from your cousin's wedding?

Maybe. Why?

Did she text you?

Miranda, why in God's name would you post that?

Well, 'cause it was funny.

She would like you to take it down.

Okay, Mom, this Carrie video is, like, the best thing

I've ever posted. Okay, my account is blowing up.

Stop.

Your cousin was really embarrassed.

She doesn't need to relive that over and over again.

Yeah, I guarantee you other people

‐posted that shit too. ‐ED: Language.

JOANNE: Listen, she's being attacked.

Do you think she really deserves that

for your online popularity?

‐Kind of. ‐Kind of?

Yo, she was the one who was being all racist and shit.

ED: Hey, language.

Oh, my God, Dad,

can you just back me up here?

Well, I would say that...

nobody is in the right here, so...

‐(clears throat) ‐Take it down.

No, no, it's my social media account.

‐I am not asking. ‐Excuse me?

What is this, like, the government of China?

You can just tell me what I can and can't post?

‐Ed, stop the car. ‐ED: Sure.

Oh, my God, Dad, don't take her‐‐Dad.

‐JOANNE: Stop the car. ‐Oh, my God.

‐You're being insane. ‐JOANNE: No, I am not.

MIRANDA: Dad, what are you doing?

(chuckles) Mom!

You look crazy. You look crazy, Mom.

‐Hey, delete the video. ‐MIRANDA: What are you doing?

Delete it.

MIRANDA: Mom, we're literally on‐‐

‐Miranda, delete the video... ‐MIRANDA: Mom!

JOANNE: Or I will!

MIRANDA: Mom, this is child abuse!

‐ED: Whoa, whoa, whoa. ‐MIRANDA: This is child abuse!

(electronic music)

♪ ♪

JOANNE: Can you just stop staring at your phone

even for a few minutes?

I already deleted the video. Can you just leave me alone?

Just look how nice it is outside,

and you're missing it all.

It's a bunch of trees, Mom. It's boring.

You know, I think we should ban devices

from our cottage from now on.

MIRANDA: Oh, my God, whatever.

Okay, then I won't come.

Okay, you know what?

If you dislike us so much, you can forget about us

ever buying you a phone ever again.

Ugh.

JOANNE: Okay? No more upgrades,

no more replacements for cracked screens.

That is your last one.

I need to use the bathroom.

Oh, my gosh, we will be there soon.

No, I need to go to the bathroom right now.

What is this?

The last toilet before we get to the cottage.

Well, what toilet?

There.

(eerie music)

(crows caw)

Uh, that is not a toilet.

ED: Sure it is. Read the sign.

♪ ♪

Seriously?

Well, you have to go, don't you?

Look, your mom and I were just in Morocco, remember?

And I can guarantee you it was way worse over there.

Here, you're gonna need these.

Okay, boomer.

ED: Whoa, whoa, hey, don't call us boomers.

We're Gen X, all right?

Nirvana, "Slacker," Woodstock '94.

We were the original cool generation.

I can't believe she just called me a boomer.

Boomer.

This drive sucks.

Oh, my God.

(flies buzzing)

(gags)

Oh, my God.

(sighs)

(phones beeping)

Oh!

Oh, shit.

Oh, shit. Oh, shit.

Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck.

Shit.

(phone chimes)

No.

(breathes deeply)

No, ugh.

(coughs) Oh.

Okay.

(straining audibly) Oh, my God.

(grunts) Come on.

Get‐‐come here.

Come here, come here, come here.

(grunts)

‐(phone chimes) ‐Oh, come on.

Oh, my God. Don't fucking look.

Okay, okay.

Okay.

Ew, ew, ew.

Just‐‐all right, just‐‐

Come on.

Shit.

Ugh, no.

Okay.

Okay.

Okay, um...

(sighs)

Okay. (coughs)

(coughing)

(whines) Okay, okay, okay.

Okay.

Okay, okay.

(screams)

(sighs)

(phone beeping)

She better not be sitting there on her phone.

(chuckles) She probably is.

I'm just gonna check on her.

Ed, help me!

‐Jesus, what is happening? ‐JOANNE: She fell in.

ED: She fell‐‐what, someone leave

‐the seat up or something? ‐JOANNE: It's not funny, Ed!

ED: Hey, I'm not trying to be funny, Jo!

How else are you supposed to fall in?

‐JOANNE: (gasps) ‐ED: Oh!

(gags) Oh, it's worse than Morocco.

‐Okay, baby! ‐ED: What, she's down there?

‐JOANNE: Yeah‐‐Miranda? ‐ED: Sweetie?

Honey, we're gonna get you out, okay?

Oh, my God, she's unconscious.

Oh, my God, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

Okay, I can't‐‐ okay, I'm gonna grab her arms.

‐Yes, you hold my legs. ‐Okay.

And then I'm gonna‐‐ you're gonna pull us back up.

‐Wait, what? ‐Hold my legs!

‐Okay, okay! ‐Okay, got 'em?

‐Do you have them? ‐Yes, got your legs.

Okay, do not drop me.

I won't.

Okay, oh, God.

ED: Oh, wow.

JOANNE: (straining)

Okay...

(coughing)

Okay, I got her!

Okay.

‐JOANNE: Pull, Ed! ‐Pulling.

‐JOANNE: Ed, pull! ‐Pulling!

Pull, Ed! (coughs)

‐(straining audibly) ‐JOANNE: Pull harder!

(coughing)

Here we go. Got you.

(gags) Ed, pull.

(straining audibly) Pulling!

(coughing)

Ugh! Jo?

Jo, you have to pull yourself up!

(soft dramatic music)

Jo, my grip is slipping!

♪ ♪

Jo!

♪ ♪

Hey‐‐hey, guys?

Oh, no.