Michael enters the office on Monday morning with a wild grin on his face. “Hey, everyone!” he shrieks, tossing his briefcase onto the reception desk and waving his arms above his head. Stanley and Karen, who are both on the telephone, glance up with annoyance and try to continue their business conversations. Dwight leaps to his feet, his expression already rapt with attention. Pam continues to play Free Cell. Jim scribbles something down on a piece of paper as if his life depended on it. Kevin stops eating his donut, leaving a thin layer of powder on his rubbery lips. Oscar and Angela exchange a worried glance. They’ve seen Michael like this before. Generally he looks this way when he wears a new pair of jeans, or after a particularly successful date with Jan. But he and Jan have been on the outs for several weeks, and he’s not wearing jeans, so that could only mean one thing…

“THE 1st ANNUAL DUNDER-MIFFLIN NATIONAL SALES MEETING!” Michael screams, flicking one of the many light switches on and off. “Oooh, oooh!” he adds for emphasis, trying to sound like a dance club. Unfortunately, the light switch he hit was the master switch for all of the computers in the office, so everyone’s screens go blank, and muttered curse words filter throughout the office. Everyone glares over at Michael.

Michael:

“The 1st annual Dunder Mifflin National Sales Meeting is something that’s been in the works for awhile now. I have really been pushing for an exotic location. The higher-ups wanted Pittsburgh. But I thought, what better location for every employee in this company to convene and discuss the ins and outs of the business than the city of sin. Where the alcohol flows like wine. That’s right… Vegas, baby.”

“Here you go, Pam,” Michael says, reaching into the shopping bag he’s carrying. He hands her a t-shirt. “I got a couple of extra-smalls, for you and Angela and Karen. I don’t think anyone else needed that size.”

Phyllis looks hurt.

Pam hesitantly unfolds the shirt, reads it and rolls her eyes.

“Come on Pam, let’s see it,” Jim says, a devilish light in his eyes.

I hate you, she mouths, holding the t-shirt up to her body. The shirt proclaims: “What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas” with “Dunder Mifflin National Sales Meeting” in eye-straining, tiny letters underneath. Poker chips dot the neckline and sleeves of the hideous getup.

“So come ON, people. This is going to be great,” Michael yelps excitedly. His hand hits the light switch, and all the computers flash back on.

“I just lost my… the important work I was just doing!” Andy cries, indignant. Karen hangs up the phone and takes a deep breath.

“So we’ll do a little bit of work during the day, and then we’ll all hang out at night,” Michael continues, clapping his hands together like a little kid. “Paint the town, go see Seigfried and Roy…”

“Uh, Michael,” Jim begins, but his boss cuts him off.

“No, Jim, you’re not going to ruin this for me. Who do you think you are, Toby?”

Toby, who is standing by the water cooler, blinks at Michael. “Uh, Michael, I don’t know that you should be suggesting late nights on the town to your employees. There are going to be early-morning meet—“

“Oh, Toby, turning in early is just for losers who aren’t getting any. For the rest of us, there’s plenty of fun to be had in Vegas! I’ll even treat each of you to a few free chips,” he says, reaching back into the shopping back and tossing chips towards each worker. One hits Pam square in the forehead. Another falls into Meredith’s “coffee.” And a few more fall into the potted plant next to Dwight’s desk.

“Um, Michael, these aren’t chips,” Pam says, picking up the toy off the floor. “They look like little people. Like the little people from Life.” Michael looks blank. “The board game?”

Michael blinks, then laughs heartily. “Oh Pam. Don’t you see, it’s the thought that counts?”

“What if we have plans with our spouses in the evening?” Phyllis asks, raising her hand shyly. “Bob and I are going to have dinner one night at the Venetian.”

“Yes,” adds Stanley, who’s finally hung up the phone. “I’m bringing my wife, and we’re seeing a comedy show. We have plans… every night.”

Michael looks hurt. “Well… nobody asked you to bring Terry, Stanley. But since you can’t seem to be away from precious wifey… have fun, I guess. I’m sure whatever comedy show you’re seeing can’t be half as funny as quality time with the rest of the Dunder Mifflin gang.”

Stanley raises his eyebrow at the word “wifey,” but says nothing.

“What about accommodations?” asks Kelly, who has dragged Ryan out of the Annex to listen to Michael’s rantings. “Can we share rooms if we’re, you know, with one of our co-workers?”

Ryan rolls his eyes, looking miserable.

“Now there’s someone who’s really thinking!” Michael cries, jabbing a finger in Kelly’s direction. “Yes, the bigwigs at corporate have decreed that employees will share rooms at the hotel.”

“Which hotel are we staying at, again?” asks Jim. “Would it be Caesar’s Palace? The Bellagio, perhaps?”

Michael looks past him, ignoring the question. “Now, corporate also said that they would feel more comfortable if employees of the same sex roomed together. No hanky panky on this trip. Except for you and Terry,” Michael says, waggling an eyebrow at Stanley. “You could, you know, fill up that champagne glass-shaped Jacuzzi, light some candles, put on a little Barry White—“

“Uh, what makes you think I like to listen to Barry White?” Stanley drawls. “You think I have a personal mix tape of Michael Jackson, Luther Vandross and Al Green?”

Andy starts chiming in with his own rendition of “Once, Twice, Three Times a Lady,” batting his eyelashes in Karen’s direction. She rolls her eyes and puts her iPod buds in her ears.

Michael gulps and takes a deep breath. “Anyway, what was I saying? Oh. No co-ed sharing of rooms. Except for me and Jan, if things go well… anyway. Right. So Kelly, you’ll be with Angela.”

Kelly, Ryan, Angela and Dwight all look disappointed.

Michael, sensing this, laughs. “Oh, come on people, that’s what corporate said. Since when do I listen to anything corporate has to say?”

Toby folds his arms across his chest, but remains silent.

“That’s what it says on paper, folks, but there’s no reason that you can’t… sneak out of your room, a la summer camp. Do whatever you want. As Bobby Brown says, be as nasty as you wanna be! As long as your roommate agrees. So for instance, Jim, you’ll be rooming with Andy.”

“Excellent,” Jim says dryly.

“But that’s not to say that you couldn’t make a little midnight booty call to Room 417.”

“Uh, Michael, this conversation is profoundly inappropriate,” Toby attempts, but trails off, knowing it won’t make any difference whatsoever.

“What’s room 417?” asks Kevin, licking his lips. His fiancé, Stacy, can’t make it due to prior work obligations, so he’s going to have to live vicariously through his office mates.

“Well… it’s hypothetical, Kevin,” Michael says, sounding annoyed. “But he could totally call up Karen and do a switcheroo. Karen’ll be rooming with Pam. I’m sure Pam wouldn’t have a problem with that. Then Pam can come hang out with me in the Room of Love.”

“Uhh…” Pam begins.

“Actually, Michael,” Jim says, lowering his voice, “Karen and I aren’t dating anymore, remember? We’re just friends now.”

Michael laughs conspiratorially. “Right, m’man.” Jim rolls his eyes. Then, addressing everyone again, he continues: “So anyway, enough with the ins and outs of the trip. Haha.” No one laughs. “So come prepared for a little bit of business… and a whole lotta fun! Remember, we leave Saturday morning, bright and early. So I’ll see you all then! Oh, and I’ll leave these shirts out here for you to take. And Phyllis, don’t you go trying to take an extra-small.”

“So, Michael, what sorts of extracurricular activities have you in store for us?” asks Dwight, notepad and pen poised in hand.

“So clear your schedules. We’re going to do all kinds of business-building activities in the evenings: gambling, drinking, maybe some massages…”

“I don’t know that massages are a good idea, Michael,” Toby whimpers.

“Oh, and one more thing,” Michael adds. “Try not to get drunk and accidentally get married, like Ross and Rachel did on ‘Friends.’ Because corporate will not reimburse annulments. Believe me.”

Michael departs into his office, whistling, obviously thinking of a fruitful reconciliation with Jan.

“So, wait,” Andy says, drumming his fingers on the side of Karen’s desk. “You and Big Tuna are through? When did that happen? And why was I the last to know?”

Karen takes her headphones off and sighs. “Yeah, we decided it was for the best. He’s interested in Pam. He was finally honest with me about it. We’re going to try and be friends now. I hope it works out for them, I really do. And I like being single.”

“Hmm…” Andy replies, a hopeful look on his face. Maybe Vegas would be his big chance to make a move. He makes a mental note to pack his Best of Barry White CD.

“Can you believe how much fun we’re going to have?” Kelly shrieks, dragging Ryan back to the Annex by his tie. “Ohmigod, we’re totally going to have to room together. And I want to see a show, but not the Celine Dion show, she’s so overplayed, if I hear that Titanic song one more time I think I might go insane.”

“I know the feeling,” Ryan manages.

“And I can’t believe Michael actually had to warn us about getting married! Like, ohmygod.”

“I don’t think he was talking just to us.”

“I mean, I went to Vegas once before, in college, and my sorority sisters and I got so drunk, I mean, there’s alcohol everywhere, like when you’re waiting in line to check in at the hotel, while you’re gambling, shopping, everywhere. Oooh, shopping!” she cries, unable to concentrate on her work, already planning out her outfits in her head.

Ryan: "I think Kelly's going to try and get me drunk and marry me in Vegas. Knowing my history with Kelly and drinking... I'm pretty freaked out right now."

Jim, as he so often does these days, wanders over to Pam’s desk for some jellybeans. “So,” he says, “you excited? Packing your sequined evening gown for these business-building activities?”

She grins. “Oh, if only I could just choose one. I have one in every color, you see.”

Jim gulps at the thought of Pam wearing an elegant, low-cut evening gown. “I can understand how that would be a tricky choice to make.” He clears his throat. “Think you’ll be okay rooming with Karen, things won’t be too weird?”

“Nah, it’ll be fine. Who knows, maybe Karen and Andy will end up having a love connection and then we can hang out and have a sleepover.”

Jim smiles, glad that he and Pam are once again close friends – and hopefully soon, something more. “That doesn’t sound particularly likely, but it does sound like a good idea.”

Jim: "Am I excited about the National Sales Meeting? Well, considering I have to schmooze with some pretty obnoxious people... but, you know, some pretty great people will be there, too. I'm just a little nervous about the flight. I always get nervous about flying."

In the break room, Dwight gives Angela change for a dollar – and an idea to rendezvous at the hotel bar each night at 11:36 p.m. “Make sure you’re not followed,” he says. “Ryan will be with Kelly and thus not a problem. We will be extremely vulnerable on this trip, so we must make sure no one learns about us. Operation Cookie Monster will ensue shortly thereafter.”

“Yes, Dwight.”

Inside his office, Michael looks down at an empty computer screen. He has to give a massively important speech on the last night of the convention, in front of Jan, all his employees, and even the top executives from Manhattan, including David. It is pivotal – a make or break point in his career. But he has been so focused on planning out the fun events for his staff that he has so far been unable to come up with a single word.

“No biggie,” he mutters to himself, closing his laptop and adding a few ideas to his “Vegas list of fun.” “I’ll work on it on the plane.” And if that doesn’t work, there was always Wikipedia. Or, if things went well, maybe Jan would help him get the creative juices flowing.