The Real Housewives: Ultimate Girls Trip Season-Finale Recap: Water Babies

For me, this season of UGT: Glue Factory was a little bit like one of those “What I ordered/What I got” memes. What I ordered was another season of RHONY: Original Recipe, with all of our old gals on the UES going to Beautique, dodging Harry Dubin, and getting up to their usual tricks and fights and squabbles. I wanted what we had before. What I ordered was six quick days without any dynamic new cast members where they mostly just fought at meals, ordered the staff around, and completely ignored Kristen at every opportunity. It was fine. I enjoyed it. I really did. But I can’t be mad at the show for being something other than what I wanted it to be.

But I feel like if we hunt it enough, eventually we will land our great white whale, which is a full season of Legacy back in the Big Apple where it belongs. We need persistence. Just look at Luann. The episode starts with her silver fox hunting on the shores of St. Barth’s. She’s slithering through the water like Ursula about to go after Prince Eric, stalking her prey to see if another female of the species is nearby. Dang it! One is. The guy’s wife walks up and hands him a popsicle, which he hands off to Luann. I’m sorry, but if my man gave a treat to a gorgeous woman chatting him up in front of me, I would have marched back on shore, packed my bags, gotten off the plane, stood in the cab line, and said, “Take me to your nearest divorce lawyer. Thank you.”

There weren’t many incidents that made this episode memorable, but it’s just nice spending the time with our girls. Ramona wakes up and says she’s dizzy. Sonja replies, “Oh, not that again!” It’s so simple but so hilarious. Sonja Tremont Morgan of the Butt-Covering Beach Wraps Morgans says, “I don’t know where to go with Kristen except soccer practice.” What? I don’t know, but I love it. Ramona is yelling at Sonja that she can’t find six pairs of her shoes. Sonja opens one of the closet doors and there they are. She explains to us that she knows where Ramona’s things are because she actually unpacked them because we all know that Ramona can’t do it for herself.

Oh, what about Ramona’s drunken tantrum when she asks Martin for her underwear and bikinis? She starts crying that she wants them now, but Martin has no idea where they are or when she asked him to take care of them. Anyone who has watched even a moment of this program knows this is Ramona’s fault, not his. She then follows him to the laundry room because she doesn’t believe he knows what he’s doing, and she starts crying, “Baby, don’t take my laundry if you can’t be responsible.” Ramona then ambles through the production room, asking people’s names as if she’s never met them before and getting them all wrong. It’s classic Ramona. It’s just who we remember and love/loathe/love to loathe. But out of context, she’s just a clown. There’s no story, just antics.

All of the women go to the beach for some Atma Janzu, which is basically some old guy with a gray ponytail dragging you through the water until you feel like you are connected with the ghost of your mother who just came to visit you after she died. I don’t know. But given the guy’s look compared to her ex-husband, it’s no wonder Kelly fell in love with him and wanted him to rub all over her body. The rest of the women just feel relaxed and renewed. But not our Sonja. She’s too clenched up. She’s too unsure in her body. She doesn’t want a spiritual awakening; she just wants a massage, maybe a little diddle under the towel, and a nice cucumber wrap to complete the spa day. I shouldn’t rag on it too much. It actually looks really cool, and this is possibly the first activity on a Housewives vacation where I thought, I’d give that a whirl. Okay, second after garden anal with a pirate. Wow, do I need to go to St. Barts?

Speaking of the Pirate, whose real name is Tomàs, Luann FaceTimes him at dinner. She says he checks in now and again, and sometimes they hang out. Does that mean they finally, actually, really, literally boned? He’s still very handsome, but he cut off all his hair, so Luann says he looks like he works at Morgan Stanley. You know what they say, Luann: Don’t marry the banker; marry the bank.

At the disco-themed dinner, everyone looks a little bit costumey. Luann is wearing a bedazzled hat over a white Party City wig. Sonja wrangled herself into a jumpsuit with a weird cutout on the hip, or else it completely split. Dorinda is wearing a fur vest that lights up. (Remember the Brandi Glanville–era Housewives when every new cast member was issued one of these vests?) The only one who actually looks chic is Kristen, who is rocking a copper spangly see-through pantsuit. If you told me it was vintage Halston, I wouldn’t be surprised. Also, if you told me that Luann once did cocaine with Halston in St. Tropez, I wouldn’t be surprised either.

Dinner is fairly uneventful, and everyone talks about the highs and lows of the trip. Most of their lows are fighting with one another, particularly Kelly and Kristen, who still can’t find their way to get along. The astrologer they visit says it’s because they’re too much alike. I don’t know. The sweetest moment is when Ramona talks about how much she loves Sonja and spending time with her. Ramona is a monster, but it’s sweet to see a real, genuine friendship between the women that has nothing to do with the show. Sonja also punctuates this by saying she learned she has to text Ramona back. She says now when Ramona asks if she’s around this weekend, she’ll just say, “Sorry, out of town.” She adds, “I’ve learned tips. I’ve been watching YouTube.” One big SMIFFEE (Sonja Morgan Is My Favorite Floozy for Ever and Eternity) for her.

After dinner, they finally get the hot guys they’ve been waiting for all episode and, honestly, all season. When Ramona talks to her friend on the island, he says he knows a bunch of 28-to-30-year-old dudes, but no one older. Luann’s friend Carole Non-Radziwill brings a bunch of hot studs, too. The supercute surfing instructors show their faces, as does Manu, the sexy chef who was at the property during their first go-round. Naturally, half of the young guys were gays who just wanted a glimpse at the property and some reality stars. I mean, do you think that the one trying on Dorinda’s thigh-high platforms was thinking about making out with a lady that night?

There was something about the party that seemed fun but a little sad. It’s like, why not just have fun with your girlfriends on the last night? Why do you need to pretend like you’re a raver in her 30s with a big fat party with a bunch of waiters that your friend who owns a restaurant rounded up? They don’t want to smoosh any of the ladies, but at least they were game enough to jump in the pool. But in their jeans? Come on, Lu. You’ve been known to charm the pants off any man, so why not one of these boys?

The episode gets its perfect closing vignette on the way to the airport. Luann tells the women she had a party in her room that night, but she wouldn’t say with who; she doesn’t kiss and tell. Naturally, we cut to the footage of Luann and a man whose face we can’t make out going to her room. For dignity’s sake, she puts a towel over the camera, but the camera operator remotely makes the camera go down like a pirate in the garden and then rise back up again, also like the pirate in the garden. Now the towel is gone and we can clearly see Manu, the hot chef, walking around naked on the patio. Congrats, Lu. Not only is he handsome, but the blur also goes all the way down to his knees. The shark finally got her prey.

The following day, all the ladies are loaded into their vans and packed onto a plane headed back to JFK. Martin, the house manager who called it “The Madness House” earlier in the week because of the chaos the women inflicted upon him, is finally alone. He is canvassing the grounds, looking for the things they surely left behind: a thong in the bidet, a pool noodle in the breakfast nook, a chicken cutlet in the pool. He thinks back on the week that he had, all the terror he could have inflicted, all the pain that he endured for what, nothing.

After giving the place a good once-over, Martin retires to the bathroom in Dorinda’s old suite, finally knowing just where the door was in the all-white room. He braces both arms against the vanity and holds his head over the sink. He looks up and stares deep into his tired, bloodshot, weary eyes and wonders if now is the time. He pulls at his neck, and strangely, it starts moving and bubbling up like it’s coming apart. But it’s not skin at all; it’s latex. He peels as he pulls, the whole thing popping off with a suctioned thwack, and then he looks back at the mirror, at the long red hair that is all matted from six days of playing the role of a lifetime. Jill Zarin stares back at herself in the mirror and wonders why she ever wanted to do this in the first place.