Lighting Up

In the first episode of Mad Men, "Smoke Gets in Your Eyes," we meet Don Draper and his ad exec crew and marvel at how horrific the 60's were. (Oh, and I'm sorry this recap is so freaking long. I promise in the future I'll try to be a little more concise.)

The show starts with the credits, a long, abstract, HBO-style meditation on commercialism and man. It’s basically a shadowed-out dude falling through a bunch of ads, so I guess the theme is: Advertising is bad? It’ll drag you down to hell? But it’s all very stylized, and the instrumental music is both menacing and snazzy, so I have some mixed reactions. First off, I’m horribly disappointed that this doesn’t have an old-school theme song, something like “Mad Men, Mad Men, doing whatever a Mad Men can! Martinis and three piece suits! Sexual harassment is at the root! Watch out: here comes Mad Men!!!!”

Guys, I just come up with that on the spot. I’m kinda drunk as I’m writing this. I had 4 beers, but also a ton of ravioli for dinner, and also maybe an entire bag of Hint of Lime chips. So, back to the show.

The credits end with the shadowed out man sitting on a couch, his back to the camera, leaning back with arm extended, holding a cigarette. A little advice to all prospective mad men: if you’re going to cop a feel with the old “stretch and grab,” you should probably transfer your cigarette to the other hand. It’s a sign of respect.

I also realize at this point that the Mad Men episodes I downloaded from the good old interweb tubes have French subtitles, and I’m super psyched to learn what the French word for martini is.

The show starts! A helpful screen tells us that the phrase Mad Men is “a term coined in the late 1950’s to describe the advertising executives of Madison Avenue.” I get worried that this show is going to try and teach me something historical. Pause, then more words appear: “They coined it.” They could come up with a cool code name but not a catchy theme song? Weak.

We open in a very cool bar, with lots of shiny and black surfaces, then zoom in on the shiny and black hair of… some dude writing on a napkin. Alone. Being alone in a bar, writing on a napkin either means you’re a crazy genius or a straight-up alcoholic. I’ll try to reserve my judgment. The genius/alkie strikes up a conversation with one of the bar-workers about cigarettes, asking why he smokes Old Golds over Lucky Strikes. Because he doesn’t like bowling? It turns out Mr. Old Gold got hooked on that brand when he was in “the service,” so it’s about habit. Crazy/Straight-up asks how he could convince him to try Lucky Strikes, and there’s a little mention of how smoking will kill you. PSA, kids! They laugh over silly old Reader’s Digest and their anti-smoking agenda, and I fall a little bit in love with the gen-coholic, who I’ve figured out is Don Draper, since he’s the star of the show. I’d be a absolutely sure this is Don if the Golden Globes hadn’t been cancelled and I had seen Jon Hamm accept his Best Actor award, but Don Draper’s smooth baritone convinces me he’s the leading man.

Everyone in the bar is smoking. God, I miss lung cancer.

Cut to Don knocking on a door, answered by a redhead in a mostly unbuttoned white men’s shirt. She lets him in, and then do the pre-fucking banter about grandmother’s day and puppies. Then he gets down to business: smoking is bad for you! Doctors won’t endorse it anymore because of goddamn Reader’s Digest. The redhead finally confirms my suspicions by asking, “Is this the part where I say, ‘Don Draper is the best ad men ever, and his big strong brain will find a way to lead the sheep to the slaughterhouse’?” And then we learn the redhead is Midge! I love exposition because it makes recapping so much easier. Don expresses concern over going into work tomorrow without an idea, Midge just wants Don to rip the buttons off her shirt, and I have to say, I do too. He finally leans over and they start making out… then, fade out. Real classy, AMC.

The next morning, Don Draper’s hair is a bit messed up and he’s smoking in bed with Midge. They discuss marriage, and she tells him, “You know the rules: I don’t make plans and I don’t make breakfast.” Don’s got this look in his face like, “Damn, an omelet would be so good right now.” Instead, he continues to obsess over his smoking account and they slag off Reader’s Digest one more time. Man, what did Reader’s Digest ever do to Mad Men? My grandparents used to have a subscription, and they also didn’t have cable TV, so whenever we went to upstate New York to visit I would read about 8 issues of Reader’s Digest. I always dreamed of getting $200 dollars by successfully submitting a joke or story to the “That’s Outrageous!” column.

Madison Avenue, Sterling Cooper ad agency, morning. Some smarmy guys in an elevator discuss an upcoming bachelor party, then make their way to an office within which sits… Connor! Angel’s son who grew up in another dimension, returned to LA to be really moody and then slept with Cordelia, his surrogate mother, during a semi-apocalypse, and then did some other stuff that I don’t remember but I’m sure was similarly inappropriate. Anyway, Connor is on the phone with someone he calls “honey” (Cordelia?), and tells her to go shopping or something. Man, I wish I were married to Connor. Then he tells her, “Of course I love you. I’m giving up my life to be with you, aren’t I?” Suicide pacts are sooo Connor. Also, I find it really strange to see Vincent Kartheiser not playing a 15 year old. According to IMDB he’ll be 29 in May. Also, according to Imdb he failed the 9th grade and lists Monica Keena (Ghost Abby on Dawson’s Creek and Hot Rachel on Undeclared) as one of his favorite actresses, so he’s both old and pretty dumb. Sorry, Vinnie!

Next, it’s Saffron from Firefly, as a secretary. Do you ever notice how whenever there’s one Joss Whedon alumni on a TV show, there’s bond to be another close behind? They travel in packs, I swear. Anyway, Saffron is wearing a great green dress and giving a tour to a more dowdy chick, apparently on her first day at work. Saffron gives the newbie some advice about how to be a good secretary to Don Draper, then tells her to go home, cut two eyeholes out of a paper bag, put it on her head, then look at herself naked and “assess your strengths and weaknesses. Really be honest.” Is this like Knocked Up when the execs told Katherine Heigl to go home, weigh herself, subtract 20 pounds, then weigh that? The next piece of advice Saffron (we learn her name is Joan) tells Dowdy is, “really make your ankles sing.” If you had, say, a martini right now and wanted to play some sort of drinking game, you could take a gulp whenever someone mentions Dowdy’s legs.

Don Drapper walks by with Mr. Sterling, played by John Slattery, who I always thought was a poor man’s Clooney with the salt-and-pepper hair. On the other hand, he wanted to pee on Carrie in his Sex and the City role, which is something ol’ Cloons would never do (hopefully). Slattery pressure Don about the Lucky Strike account, and in response Don opens his desk drawer and pulls out a freshly laundered white button-down, one of a whole stack. He changes (I want an office that doubles as a dressing room!), and Slattery asks if the company has ever hired any Jews. They both say the word “Jew” a bunch of times and I learn that the French translation is “Juifs.” Turns out they have an appointment with a department store run by a Jewish family and want to make them feel “comfortable.” Don offers to “run down to the deli, grab somebody.” Yes, I love casual prejudice! The more inappropriate these people act the more in love I fall.

Don Draper puts an antacid tablet into a glass of water and sighs deeply, probably wishing he had a martini. Then he digs around in his desk and pulls out… a Purple Heart? He places it in its proper case, then closes it to reveal it belongs to “Lt. Donald Francis Draper.” I’ve always believed middle names are very important, so I looked up the meaning of Francis: from France. I’m sensing that my French subtitles are going to be very important. Salvatore the Italian art director enters the room and shows Don a drawing of a shirtless guy relaxing with a cigarette. Salvatore seems to be very into this drawing—gay scandal up ahead? He then asks if Don is going to Pete’s bachelor party, and Don replies “he’s not really big on these things.” Next question from the Italian: “Should we drink before the meeting or after? Or both?” I think you know my answer.

The morning debauchery is interrupted by Greta Guttman, a very severe looking older woman who proceeds to grill them about the smoking ad campaign. She throws some research at them, then gets all Freudian and describes the “death wish,” a self-destructive tendency just as powerful as sexual desire. In response to Freud, Salvatore says, “So, we’re supposed to believe that people are living one way, and secretly thinking the exact opposite? That’s ridiculous.” Reaaal subtle, Mad Men writers. Don shoots down Greta’s psychology-driven theories, and then tosses her thick report on cigarette-caused cancer in the trash. Recycle, Don!

In the next scene, Don lies down on his couch for a quick nap, and I decide that being an advertising exec could be the best job ever. He’s awoken by the dowdy secretary, who introduces herself as Peggy Olsen. She tells him Mr. Campbell is outside, and soon bursts in Connor, who I guess I’ll have to start calling by his real name. In addition to the Peggy’s legs game, also sip whenever someone bursts into Don’s office without knocking. It happens so frequently that I have to analyze it: does this mean that people around the office don’t respect Don and his private space, or that they just feel so comfortable with him that his office is practically public space?

Pete Campbell starts asking Peggy about her background, then takes it upon himself to give her some of the world’s sleaziest fashion advice: “You’re in the city now. Wouldn’t be a sin for us to see your legs. If you pull your waist in a little bit you might look like a woman.” Drink! But now I feel bad for calling her dowdy and being a part of the patriarchal society. Sorry Peggy, you’re beautiful just the way you are. She looks a little bit like Thelma from Scooby Doo with those really unfortunate bangs, but Thelma wore a miniskirt with knee socks, despite her reputation as the not-sexy one. Anyway, Don sends Peggy out, but not before apologizing for Pete, who “left his manners back at the fraternity house.” Pete shrugs his shoulders in the universal gesture for, “What do you want, boys will be boys.”

Don and Pete walk through the office discussing both Peggy and Pete’s fiancée, so now we know it’s Pete’s bachelor party everyone’s talking about. Don tells Pete, “I bet the whole world looks like one big brassiere strap just waiting to be snapped to you,” which is a nicely succinct description of Pete’s character. Don gives Pete a little advice: be nice to the secretaries, because otherwise he’ll never be promoted to boss because no one will like him, and he’ll have “a little bit of hair, and girls will go home with you out of pity.” Pete’s face has “ouch” written all over it.

The two men enter the meeting and meet the client, Rachel Menkin. A woman! Oh noes!

After the commercial we’re at the Midtown Medical Building, where Peggy is sitting in an examining room reading a pamphlet titled “It’s Your Wedding Night!” I try to image what it says inside. “If it’s not your first time, pretend that it is, even if you’ve already had sex with the man you married. He’ll want to forget your promiscuous past now that he’s made you into an honest woman.” The doctor enters, lights up a cigarette, then starts interrogating Peggy about why she wants contraceptives. He says he’s not here to judge, just wants to make sure she doesn’t turn into a “strumpet,” and that he’ll take her off the pill if she abuses it, because “easy women do not find husbands.” This is the scariest TV show I’ve ever seen.

We cut back to the ad agency, where Slattery and Don are presenting their ideas for the female/Jewish department store: a TV spot, a coupon, etc. The men sit there looking extremely pleased with themselves before Rachel Menkin lays the smackdown. She doesn’t think that her store, which shares a wall with Tiffany’s, should be giving out coupons. You know, I don’t care if it makes me white trash, I love coupons. I signed up to get coupons from Borders texted to my phone and now I go there about twice a week to get books at 40% off. On the other hand, Borders does not share a wall with Tiffany’s. Anyway, Don stupidly tells Rachel, “I think your father would agree with the strategy”— this shows a definite lack of ability to read the audience. In case you were wonder, I think Don is drinking a Bloody Mary, and there’s a shrimp cocktail on the table in front of Rachel which looks delicious.

Pete asks Rachel why she came to their agency and not one with, as Rachel puts it, “a man from the same village as my father.” She gets another dig in at Don by telling him that rival agency favors coupons too. There’s nothing wrong with coupons, Rachel! Just because you’re using a solid gold cigarette holder doesn’t mean you have to pass up the buy 1 get one free deal. Rachel tells them she’s not interested in the type of people who love coupons, like me and housewives; she wants people who don’t worry about saving money and go to her department store because it’s expensive. Don tells her, “We obviously have very different ideas.” Rachel replies, “Yes, like the customer is always right.” There are like five shrimp cocktails on the table. Every time the camera switches shots I notice a new one. Rachel slams them for not living up to Sterling Cooper’s reputation of being “innovative,” and Don starts to tell her she’s out of line when Slattery interrupts to ask Don to not “get emotional here.” I love that gender reversal—it’s so stereotypical for the women to get all het up and have to be told to “not get emotional,” but here it’s Alpha Male Don who needs to be reined in.

Don, Rachel, Pete and Slattery (I really cannot remember his name, and Slattery is really fun to say and type so maybe I just won’t ever learn it) fight over what kind of department store Menken’s is: is it like Chanel or just another Jewish department store? Rachel puts her cigarette out in the shrimp cocktail. Gross! Don gets up and says, “I’m not gonna let a woman talk to me like this.” I have five bucks on these two having really hot hate sex before episode 6.

Don strides angrily through the halls as Pete runs to catch up. The two of them are like, “Bitches, man.” Don notes that Roger (I guess that’s Slattery) won’t be happy, which is good for Pete since Pete wants Don’s job. Pete makes Don stop for a little macho heart to heart: “I’m not gonna pretend I don’t want your job. But you were right, I’m not great with people, and you are. So I’m kind of counting on you to help me out.” Don apologizes for being hard on him before, and blames the stress of the tobacco account. Pete lays it on very, very thick: “You’ll figure something out. A man like you I’d follow into combat blindfolded. And I wouldn’t be the first.” Pete sticks his hand out for a shake and I start yelling at Don, “Shake his hand! He’s obviously a psychopath and when he brings a machine gun to the office you’ll be the first to go!” Don take his chances on rejecting Pete’s brotherly overtures, and tells him, “Let’s take it a little slower. I don’t want to wake up pregnant.” He walks away, Pete looks around shiftly, and then he mumbles… can you say fuck you on AMC? Did people even say fuck you in the 50’s? The French subtitles have deserted me just as I need them most.

Back to the secretary area, where Peggy (the dowdy one) and Joan (Saffron) discuss the doctor Peggy just visited. Joan tells her, “He has a place in South Hampton. I’m not saying that I’ve seen it… but it’s beautiful.” Oh no, Joan is one of those girls, who secretly want everyone to know how much sex they’re having but don’t want everyone to think they’re a slut, so they make loads of double-entendres and do a lot of winking. Joan leads her to the “nerve center” of the office, where three girls sit by the phones and act as operators. Joan tells them to never yell, snap, or argue with these girls, and above all, “Always be a supplicant.” I’d say Joan is taking that advice home with her at night. Peggy passes out some “getting to know you” gifts to the operators, and one asks about Don’s old assistant. Joan tells them that the old assistant moved on: “Draper wasn’t interested.” Peggy gets this “Duh duh duuuun!” look on her face, whjch only gets worse when the middle operator tells her, “You have great legs. I bet Mr. Draper would like it if we could see them.” Damn, all this fashion advice flying around the office is just as I imagine working at Vogue would be like. Except with more cocaine and less shrimp cocktails.

The tobacco meeting has finally arrived! A man with a Texas drawl bitches about “government interlopers” and I prepare myself for another dig at Reader’s Digest. Instead some random exec says that with all the government interference we “might as well be living in Russia.” I read this article a few months ago about how the most popular shows on Russian TV are almost line-for-line remakes of shows like Married with Children, except with Russian actors and Al is working in a meat shop instead of a shoe store (or something). Maybe there’s an idea in there for advertising Lucky Strike cigarettes. No?

The Texan exhales a big puff of smoke and sets off a wave of coughing among every man at the table. There’s a lot of talk about the media convincing everyone that smoking is harmful, and how much that sucks. Slattery agrees that it’s all a conspiracy cooked up by Reader’s Digest and beatniks, but that they’re still not legally allowed to advertise that cigarettes are safe. He then passes the ball to Don, and I get all nervous because I hate seeing people choke. Just kidding! There are few things I love better than seeing people choke, which is why I’m so into Olympic figure skating. Those fragile little bitches snap into bits every time they botch a double axel. Especially Sasha Cohen, who has the mental prowess of a baby mouse.

Don spends 2 minutes smashing his cigarette into the ashtry, stammering all the while. He’s choking! The Russian judges are going to give him such a low score after this faulty start. But then Pete swoops onto the ice and starts doing spins and figure-eights, assuring the Lucky Strike people that the health bias isn’t the end of the world. People get in their cars and drive to work everyday, even though cars are dangerous and have been known to kill people. Cigarettes are exactly the same! Pete then goes for the triple lutz by bringing in Greta’s “death wish,” which Don dismissed earlier. Oh, but he overjumps and lands on his ass! The Texan asks, “What the hell are you talking about? Are you insane? I’m not selling rifles here.” The Texan is obviously the Russian judge in this totally overblown analogy. If someone would just snottily say, “Toepick!” I’d be able to wrap it up. (Also, can I just let everyone know that ABC Family is going to be screening the seminal classic The Cutting Edge sometime this weekend? I would highly recommend it. Oh, and Rachel Menkin totally reminds me of Moira Kelly, who stars in the movie with DB Sweeney. Seriously, watching The Cutting Edge is the best possible way you could spend a Sunday.)

The Lucky Strike men get up to leave, and the camera closes up on Don’s face. Some vaguely Native American wind chimes are heard, and Don finally finds his spirit animal (the smoking bear, perhaps?) He stops the men and asks if he could say one more thing. “The Federal Trade Commission and Reader’s Digest have done you a favor. They’ve let you know that any ad that brings up the concept of cigarettes and health together, well, it’s just going to make them think of cancer. And if you can’t make those health claims, neither can your competitors.” Finally, someone has something good to say about Reader’s Digest! Don tell them that since the health angle is out the window, there are 6 identical companies selling six identical products, and they can say anything they want. He then gets out a chalkboard and has the Texan explain how Lucky Strikes are made. He loses me with “insect repellent,” but gets me back with “Carolina sunshine.” Don picks up on the knowledge that the tobacco is toasted or something, and says that that’s their new slogan: It’s Toasted. Don glows with the beauty of bullshit as he tells them, “Advertising is based on one thing: happiness.” He then gives a little presidential campaign speech about new cars and freedom from fear, and billboards on the side of the road that “scream whatever you’re doing is ok. It’s ok. You. Are. OK.” Don looks ready to kiss some babies. Pete looks ready to eat some babies (did Connor ever eat any babies on Angel? That definitely seems like something he would do). The Texan looks ready to have some babies with Don—metaphorical, advertising babies, that is. The Texan repeats, “It’s toasted. I get it.”

Celebratory brandy in Don’s office! Don confesses to Slattery he pulled that idea out of his ass, which is where all good ideas come from. Slattery then takes advantage of the good mood by asking Don to reconsider “this presidential campaign.” I’m recapping this as I go, so I swear I hadn’t seen this when I wrote that line in the last paragraph about stump speeches. Don says he doesn’t know, he might make a “hash out of it.” Slattery says, “Modest, that’s adorable.” No, Slattery is adorable. He continues: “C’mon, consider the product: he’s young, handsome, Navy hero. It shouldn’t be too hard to convince American Dick Nixon is a winner.” Cue the laugh track. I find it hard to believe that Nixon was ever considered handsome?

Don doesn’t get to reply as Pete and his swarmy friends bust into his office (without knocking!) bearing champagne. Pete says, “I told him how amazing you were, I’m still tingling from when I pulled a sink off the wall in the men’s bathroom, pretended it was your head, then threw it out the window onto Madison Avenue.” Or maybe that last part when unsaid. Slattery takes his leave, but not before asking Don to try and patch things up with Rachel Menkin. Don defers the question, and next tells the fellas (I need to come up with some sort of pithy nickname for these dudes, preferably something that rhymes…) that he’ll not be joining in on Pete’s bachelor party so they should go drink someone else’s liquor. As Pete heads out Don calls him on using Greta’s “death wish” research after Don rejected it. “I had a report just like that, and it’s not like there’s some magic machine that makes identical copies.” C’mon Mad Men, I know the 60’s were stupid but this isn’t Hogan’s Heroes. There are better ways to be funny.

Peggy walks in as Pete exits, and she closes the door behind her. I get worried that there’s going to be some horrendously awkward attempt at seduction by either person. Peggy thanks Don for a great first day, “and standing up for me with Mr. Campbell.” She gets all breathy and her eyes get a little squinty, and she puts her hand on Don’s hand and I am cringing like crazy. Go back to Brooklyn, Peggy! Don’t give it up to your boss on the first day! Don forcibly moves her hand and tells her, “First of all, I’m your boss, not your boyfriend. Second, if you ever let Pete Campbell go through my trash again you won’t be able to get a job selling sandwiches at Penn Station.” Peggy gets even more awkward as she explains Pete told her he left his fountain pen in there (I, too, am always leaving my fountain pen places so I can go back and go through people’s trash), and that she hopes he doesn’t think she’s “that kind of girl.” Like who, Joan? He tells her he doesn’t, then asks her to place a phone call before going home.

Smoky jazz club with a blonde on stage doing some sort of dance with her fingers. She’s basically standing up there taking her glove off really slowly—it’s hot. The bachelor party is harassing the cocktail waitress, and one of them says, “Let’s live here!” A group of women show up and sit down with them—I’m not sure if the girls know the guys or not but everyone’s friends at the Pussycat Club! The blonde on stage starts to take off her dress, and Pete starts feeling up the girl next to him. But since she’s not his surrogate mother, it probably won’t go too far. The stripper is now removing her bra, and AMC is like, “If you thought a mumbled ‘fuck you’ was bad, wait until we show you nipple tassles!”

At a much classier joint, Don is buying Mai Tais for Rachel Menkin. I’m interested in seeing how she’s going to be a ballbuster with a drink topped with pineapple, some leaves, and a little umbrella. She guesses the reason Don called: “You got in trouble, didn’t you?” He apologizes for losing her temper, she accepts, and Don looks surprised at how easy that was. She should have ordered a gin and tonic and made him grovel a little more. She tells him it was refreshing to hear all the things she’s always assumed people were thinking. Now they’re totally eyefucking each other and I’m wondering if I’m going to be so lucky as to see the hot hate sex happen in the next two minutes. He then asks why she isn’t married, doesn’t she think “getting married and having a family would make you happier than all the headaches that go along with fighting people like me?” She tells him the hate sex when you’re married is bitter rather than hot. She spouts some stuff about not wanting to put on an apron and finding business a thrill, then gets a little girly and confessed, “And I’ve never been in love.” Saddest six words in the English language. Don teases her a little by saying he thinks he used “She won’t get married because she’s never been in love” in an ad for nylons. She tells him love isn’t just a slogan for some people, and Don gives her a preview of the bitterness that’ll come if they ever got hitched: “Oh, you mean love, you mean big lightning bolt to the heart, you mean where you can’t eat and you can’t work and you just run off and get married and make babies. The reason you haven’t felt it is because it doesn’t exist. What you call love was invented by guys like me… to sell nylons.” Rachel is dubious, and Don continues the Morose Express with, “You’re born alone and you die alone, and this world just drops a bunch of rules on top of you to make you forget those facts, but I never forget it.” Everyone in the club starts texting their friends that they just witnessed the most pathetic man in Manhattan and he’ll be performing all night.

Rachel stares intently at Don and says she just realized “it must be hard being a man, too.” Don’s like, “What? Where did you get that from what I just said? Being a man is the best! My life rules!” She tells him, “I don’t know what it is you really believe in, but I do know what it feels like to be out of place, to be disconnected, to see the whole world laid out in front of you the way other people live it. There’s something about you that tells me you know it too.” Don looks at her openly for a second, then shuts down and averts his eyes. Oh, men. He asks if she wants another drink, and Rachel looks disappointed. She takes her leave, but tells Don she’ll be back at Sterling Cooper on Monday for a “real meeting.”

The only man lower than Don is Pete, who is drunkenly knocking on an apartment door. A young woman with her hair in curlers answers, and Pete asks if Peggy lives there. He followed her home! Creeper! Peggy comes to the door and looks a little flattered that Pete is hassling her in the middle of the night (because she’s an idiot). She goes out in the hall to talk to him and Pete delivers what may be the best or worst pickup line ever, “I’m getting married on Sunday.” She knows, and Pete continues, “you must think I’m a creep.” I do! She asks why he’s here, and Pete stands about an inch away from her face and says, “I wanted to see you tonight.” Peggy says, a little wondorously, “me?” and you can tell she’s just sad and lonely enough to buy it. You guys, she is so Chloe Sevigny’s character in American Psycho! Pete is no Christian Bale, though. Peggy pulls him inside for some sex that will probably end with him pulling out a chainsaw.

I’ve often bitched about how short network tv shows are, how they’re barely 40 minutes, but it’s been 45 and a half minutes and I’m ready for this episode to be over. Don is on the train (or subway?), presumably heading home, and the score is getting very Hitchcockian. He pulls up to a big, white house, and the violins are going nuts. He walks inside and a jazzy saxophone starts playing, so I guess Don isn’t going to be revealed to be the real American Psycho. No, it’s much worse: He’s married. The musical director must hate hypocrites. Don’s wife greets him, and they make out like boring married people until Don tells her he’ll be right back. He goes up to the kid’s bedroom to check on his son and daughter (I think… my screen is kind of dark so it could be two girls or some sort of halvsie). Don’s wife appears in the doorway and watches her perfect husband with her two perfect kids, Frank Sinatra starts crooning, and we zoom out the window. The end.