The big show started out with none other than Phil Keoghan greeting us from the fine city of Denver, Colorado. He came to us with slightly shorter hair than usual (must have been enjoying a summer holiday in Auckland), but more importantly, that old trademark was back. The one thing that let us know we were back to basics in season nine. Yes, Phil was decked out in his big, puffy, ribbed turtleneck -- a sartorial gesture that seemed to say, "It's okay. It'll be just like old times." What a way to start the season!

We then caught up with the teams who were filing into Colorado's famous Red Rocks Amphitheater. First up were Lake and Michelle, a married couple who also served as dentist and dentist's assistant. If thoughts of Steve Martin in Little Shop of Horrors came to mind, you were not far off. Yes, Blake was the typical insane Southern maniac who excused his behavior as merely rampant and misunderstood "intensity." I'm sure that's how Hitler described himself too. Of course, at this early point in the episode, we couldn't really tell just how villainous Blake was or will be, but I had a bad feeling about him -- mostly due to his uncanny resemblance to Phil. He was kind of like Phil with brown hair. A DarkPhil, if you will. And DarkPhil can only mean one thing: PURE EVIL. If only he had an eye patch...

LightPhil vs. DarkPhil

As for Lake's wife, Michelle, she was merely content to live in a fantasy world -- one where her existence was validated by some delusion of carrying the Scarlett O'Hara torch. She noted that her relationship with Lake "probably does exemplify women from the South, the old era of Scarlett making it through the war and doing whatever she has to do." Never mind that it's 2006, not 1864, we'll just let Michelle be. I'm sure she'll be taking enough abuse throughout the season.

The next duo we met were Danielle and Dani, childhood friends from Staten Island who apparently derived great joy from dancing awkwardly on bar tops. Then there were BJ and Tyler, two Harvard hippie friends who surely ripened any form of mass transportation with their patchouli "essence." The guys described themselves as "searchers for the funny and ironic" -- as evidenced by them swinging fake swords, shooting imaginary guns, and plucking ukuleles. I could tell that I would have massive disdain for these two, but then when they promised feats of treachery and deceit, I retracted my stinkin' thinkin'. Maybe there was more to these guys than met the eye (or the nostril).