It was 3 PM the following afternoon (local time) when Jim's plane arrived at the Sydney International Airport. He was wide-awake. As he was heading to the baggage claim, Mike caught up with him, camera in hand. Back to business as usual.
"We're supposed to meet our driver at the baggage check," Jim said. They were staying at the Crest Hotel in downtown Sydney. Since it was the middle of winter in Australia, the weather was in the middle-to-lower 60's, which was fine by him. It had topped a stifling 90 degrees in Scranton the day before he'd left home. He was actually pleased be coming to cooler weather. The forecast looked rainy for the first few days he was going to be there, but honestly - he wasn't in Scranton, so what was there to complain about?
---
It took Pam the rest of the afternoon to get a hold of the company travel agent that Jim had booked the trip through. When she finally got a hold of her, the woman refused to give Pam the location of the hotel Jim was staying at, citing privacy regulations. Pam had pleaded and explained their story, but the woman wouldn't budge - until Pam offered her the Chili's gift certificate that Michael had given Pam for her birthday. (It wasn't like she could use it; she was going to re-gift it, anyway.)
Once Pam had broken the information from her, she booked the next available flight to Sydney. She didn't know how she would be able to afford it, but at this point, it really didn't matter to her. If she had to fly halfway around the world to see Jim, she'd go broke to do it. She couldn't wait two more weeks to tell him what she had to say, and she wanted to be there to say it; to see his face and feel him as he took her into his arms...
Her flight left New York at 11 PM that night. She arrived at the gate early, so she used the time she had to make a phone call.
"Crest Hotel, how may I connect you?" the perky voice at the other end of the line said. The line sounded tinny. It was strange; she'd never called anyone outside the country before. It was probably costing her an arm-and-a-leg, especially since she was calling from a pay phone using her credit card.
"Yes, can I have the room of Jim Halpert, please?"
"Let me connect you to the front desk, one moment."
Pam waited while they put her through. She repeated her question to the front desk agent who answered. "I'm sorry," the agent said, "it doesn't look like he checked in yet. Can I take a message to leave for him?"
"Um..." Pam's throat closed up when she saw through her peripheral vision a figure standing next to her, and turned to see Jeff and his camera filming her. Is nothing sacred? "Um... just that I miss him, and can't wait to see him again," she said finally.
"Do you have a return number I could leave?"
"No, no, he won't be able to get a hold of me." She kept glancing back at the camera, and hunched over so they couldn't see her talking.
Jeff moved the camera around to the other side. She scowled at him.
"Can I leave a name for him?"
"Pam Beesly. Thank you." She quickly hung up the phone and swung around to face Jeff. "What are you guys doing here?" She stopped herself. "Of course, why do I even ask? You guys probably heard about everything in the office today. I won't even ask how you knew to find me at the airport." She frowned and sat back down near the gate. "I don't want to talk about it," she said.
They sat in silence for about two minutes. Then Jeff asked: "What made you change your mind?"
"I don't know," she said. She turned away from the camera and rolled her eyes. "A lot of things. A lot of things ... I mean, I guess I never realized what Jim and I had all along. I always thought of him as one of my best friends -- someone really great to hang out with -- he really made the workday go by faster, it was nice." She stopped, feeling shy all of a sudden, and smiled at her feet. "Um... and maybe, I think, on the Casino Night, after he told him about his feelings -- that got me thinking about everything. I guess I never really thought about the fact that he was interested in me until then. It was probably obvious ... wasn't it?"
Jeff said nothing, but she could see him smiling behind the camera. Jerk.
"I didn't tell anyone this until recently, that Jim kissed me that night, too," she grinned involuntarily. "It was ... I didn't expect it at all." She smiled again. "That ... made me start rethinking everything. I think -- it kind of put him in a different light for me. I think I spent so much time avoiding it and not thinking about it, when it finally hit me, it really hit me." She smiled again. She hadn't felt this happy in years. It was an unbelievable feeling. She thought she had been happy that day that Roy had set the wedding date ---- but she realized it was more like relief than happiness. It had felt like a validation at the time. She didn't realize how hollow it had become until the day of Jim's going away party when he'd said all those things to her -- that really, she had been grasping for straws. Somehow, she had the notion that once she got married, everything would be okay, and Roy and her would somehow live happily ever after. She had needed validation that she had not wasted the last ten years of her life waiting to marry Roy.
But, Jim: ever since Jim had come into her life, he had slowly but surely crept into her consciousness. He was a coworker, a friend, a confidant, and lately, a subject of her fantasies. She hoped he would understand why it had taken her so long to come around ...
It never even occurred to her until then that maybe he might still be angry at her. Would he want to see her? Did she do the right thing, spending her savings on this plane ticket? Maybe she should have waited until he came back ...
Pam must have looked conflicted, because Jeff said, "What?"
"Nothing," she said. "I think I'm just nervous about taking such a long flight." And having the whole trip to think about how Jim's going to react to you randomly showing up at his hotel... in Australia. She couldn't believe she was actually doing this.
---
Jim and Mike arrived at the hotel in short order. They even got to ride a limo from the airport to the hotel. That was kind of nice. It made him feel like he was more important than he really was. Jim looked down at his worn-out wool trench and brown oxfords as they stepped out of the car. He certainly wasn't dressed like a high roller. No one would mistake him for Brad Pitt; that was for sure.
He went to check in at the front desk, handing over the credit card he'd used to secure the reservation.
"Here's your room key," the agent said. Her nametag said her name was Shell. Jim smiled at that. Made him think of the beach. It was too bad it was really too cold to go to the beach. "Oh, and it looks like you have a message, Mr. Halpert." She handed him an envelope embossed with the hotel logo. It had his name hand-written on it.
Jim got a strange thrill out of being called "Mr. Halpert." He smiled at that.
"Do you need any help to your room?" Shell asked.
"Um, no," Jim said, glancing over at Mike, whose bags were already loaded on a bell cart. Mike had his suitcase along with all his camera equipment and a carry-on. He had a lot of luggage, compared to Jim, who had only packed a medium-sized suitcase. His messenger bag was his carry-on. Jim headed over to where Mike was standing, waiting for the bellhop to pick up the luggage. "What room are you staying in?"
"1504," Mike said, readjusting his camera to sit on his shoulder again, now that he'd arranged his luggage.
"I'm in 1512; we're just down the hall from each other. We can go up together, then."
"Exactly," Mike said.
The bellhop arrived and the three of them headed over to the elevators. As they waited for an elevator to open, Jim eyed the envelope. He wondered who could have left him a message. His stomach jumped thinking about it. What if it was Pam? That thought made him grin nervously.
"What?" Mike asked, looking at the envelope. Mike's camera was watching Jim as well.
The bellhop eyed Mike and his camera curiously. "What's that all about?" he asked, breaking the moment. Jim felt relieved for the distraction.
"We're filming a documentary," Mike explained. The elevator opened and the three of them boarded. As the doors closed, Jim wedged himself in-between the luggage and the wall, hoping Mike couldn't see him as he carefully opened the envelope. Inside was a folded piece of stationary with the hotel logo embossed on the top. He opened it up all the way.
The note read:
Message for Jim Halpert, hotel guest
Received Saturday June 10th, 2:32 PM, via telephone
I miss you and I can't wait to see you again.
- Message from Pam Beasley
No return number provided
Jim gasped. It was from Pam. He felt very sick to his stomach all of a sudden. Received today, at 2:30 PM. He wondered what time it was there when she had called. She had called less than an hour ago! It must be late at night back home.
Why had she called? And what was that message supposed to mean -- "I miss you" --? "I can't wait to see you again" --? Was this supposed to be some kind of joke? It was the day before her wedding and she was sending him a message like this? What the hell was this?
He looked at it again. She knew he was in Australia. She was getting married tomorrow. Was she trying to reassure him? Make him feel better? It was having more the effect of feeling like he was being screwed with halfway around the world. She knew he was taking this trip to get away from her and her goddamn wedding. Who did she think she was, anyway?
The more he thought about it, the angrier it made him. As they stepped out of the elevator, he crumbled the paper into a ball and threw it into one of the small garbage cans by the elevator, but it bounced off the rim and onto the floor.
Jim stormed by, and didn't notice when Mike carefully scooped the paper off the floor and stuffed it into his pocket. By the time Jim had turned around again, Mike had caught up to them and they were at Mike's room. Jim waited until his stuff was dropped off, then Mike followed him to his room while they dropped Jim's bags off.
Once they were alone again, Mike said, "What did you throw away when we got off the elevator?"
"It was nothing," Jim said, shaking his head and frowning. "I could use a drink. Why don't we check out the hotel bar?"
---
There were three bars in the hotel, but the only one that was open that time of day was the Sports Bar. Jim wasn't a huge sports fan, but he wasn't in the bar to watch the sports on TV; he was there to get a few drinks in him and hopefully forget about his disastrous love life for a few days. As long as he stopped receiving those fucked-up messages from Pam, he'd be okay.
He still didn't understand why she would leave a message at his hotel. What was it supposed to mean? Was she trying to be nice after they'd left on such bad terms? She had also left him that other mysterious phone message when he'd left on Thursday. Was it possible she'd changed her mind?
No, Jim thought. You can't go getting your hopes up again; that's how you got into this whole mess in the first place. She was getting married tomorrow and he had to figure out how to deal with it. These messages she'd left him were not helping the cause; that was for sure.
He wished his cell phone worked down here. He just wanted so badly to hear her voice again. Hear her tell him how much she'd miss him. Hear her tell him how things weren't the same without him there. Jim sighed loudly, setting his hand on his chin.
"Get you a drink, mate?"
Jim jumped in his seat as he looked up at the bartender, who looked back at Jim expectantly, and then curiously at the camera behind him. He turned back to Jim quickly.
"Eh?" the bartender said.
"Oh, yeah, uh -- a beer." Jim glanced quickly at the beers on tap. "Uh -- a Tooheys, I guess?"
"New or Old?"
Jim looked confused. "What's the difference?"
"The New is a 'lager-style' beer, while the Old is a 'dark ale-style' beer."
Jim nodded. He had to smile at the way they said "beer," the "e's" were really drawn out and said in a higher pitch. "Lager" had a interesting ring to it in the Australian dialect as well. "I'll have a Tooheys New," he said.
"Large or small schooner?" He held up the two mugs. The large was huge.
"I guess I'll take a large," Jim said. Jim looked over at Mike, who was sitting down next to him, his camera perched on his shoulder. "You want one?" Jim asked him.
"I really shouldn't..."
"C'mon, just one," Jim said. "You need it after the long flight."
Mike shrugged, causing the camera to shift on his shoulder. He turned the camera off temporarily, lowering it onto the bar. "One," he said, holding his finger up. "Only one."
Jim nodded at the bartender. "We'll take two schooners," he said.
---
Several hours and several large schooners later, they were both getting a little loopy. Jim was a beer up on Mike, but considering that they'd both had three so far, that didn't say much. "This is my lascht one," Mike said. He had been drinking on the plane, too. Intercontinental travel (especially with a large camera strapped to you constantly) was a lot more stressful than it seemed. Having a few beers helped take the edge off.
Mike repositioned the camera on his shoulder, turning it back on again. Despite the fact that he was a bit tipsy, his instinct told him that he would be in trouble if he didn't start recording some of these crazy conversations they were having.
Jim had gone back to babbling on about the phone messages that Pam had left him.
"... I just can't believe she called. It's the day before her wedding - what do you think it means?" Jim leaned in really close to the camera lens. "Do you think she really likes me? I wish she liked me. I wouldn't be here now if she did, though." He stuck his tongue out in disgust, and turned to his right, where a blonde girl was eyeing him (and the camera) with great interest. "No offense to you," he said, nodding very seriously.
"No, no - don't worry 'bout it," the girl said.
Australian accents were really cute, Jim thought. Especially when really cute, tanned girls accompanied them. He studied her very closely while she watched with a sense of amusement. "You're pretty cute," he said.
She smiled very widely at that. "So are you," she said, touching his leg.
He looked down at her hand, somewhat startled. "Yes, you're pretty cute, but not exactly my type," he said, frowning at her sadly. He took a large gulp from the schooner. "I'm sorry."
She looked surprised at that, taking her hand back. "What is your type, then?"
"A girl named Pam Beesly from where I come from."
The girl next to Jim became acutely aware of the camera perched directly behind her, trained on Jim. She turned and smiled nervously at it. "Um --" She looked back and forth between Jim and the camera quickly. "Where do you come from?"
"Pennsylvania. A boring town called Scranton. It's a few hours from New York City."
"Ah," she said, recognizing that. She leaned into Jim, gesturing at the camera. "What's with the camera?" she whispered to him.
Jim looked at it, too, then back at the girl. "It's for a reality-documentary show I've been a part of."
Her eyes lit up. "Ooh - is it like Big Brother, or the Amazing Race? I love reality shows!"
Jim shrugged. "Sort of. I used to work in an office back home ... and they filmed us there." He looked accusingly at the camera. "Apparently, the contract I signed said they could follow me here, too."
"And why are you here?"
"Because the girl I'm in love with is getting married." He looked at his watch. "Probably ... in about 12 hours from now."
"Wow, really? I'm so sorry," the girl said, putting her hand on his knee again.
---
As Pam dashed through the airport of LAX, she found herself wondering why they gave you so little time to transfer from your domestic flight to your international flight. By the time she made it to the gate that her flight was leaving out of, they were already boarding the plane. She was kind of proud of the fact that she'd made it this far: flying always made her a bit nervous, and she wasn't used to flying alone.
She waited in line, watching the couple in front of her as they slowly moved forward. It was a younger couple, no older than 30 or so. The guy had his arm around the girl he was with, and she noticed the wedding ring on his finger.
I would have been getting married in about 12 hours from now, she thought. That was a strange thought. After all the years of waiting ... the months of planning ... and here she was, one day after calling off her wedding, boarding a flight to Australia.
If someone had asked her last week where she would be, she couldn't have guessed in a million years she'd be doing this.
---
Mike had convinced Jim that he really needed to get something to eat, since he was practically falling off the bar stool, so he said goodbye to Jessica (Jim finally asked what her name was after they'd been talking for over an hour) and they headed out onto the street to find somewhere to eat. Jim had remembered taking something from Jessica at some point, and when he reached into his pocket, he pulled out a napkin that had her phone number scrawled on it.
Meeting girls here was a lot easier than it was at home, he thought. But then again, maybe it just seemed that way because he was drunk.
"What'd you think about Jessica?" Mike asked after turning the camera back on. He walked backwards while Jim talked.
"I don't know," Jim said; suddenly shy. "She was cute, she was really cute. I mean, she's almost a little too cute, with the tan and the really blonde hair, I've never really been interested in blondes, but she was nice, and you know, there's no harm sometimes in having a little fun..."
Jim's mind suddenly flashed back to that day when the office went to Dwight's dojo. He'd been messing around with Pam -- nothing more than usual -- but things got a little carried away, he'd lifted her off her feet, her shirt came up -- he felt her bare skin against his hands, and for a moment, he didn't want to ever let her go. But Meredith had turned to look at them and after Pam kept telling him to put her down... he shook his head, sighing aloud.
"What?" Mike asked.
"Hm? Oh -- nothing," Jim said. "Hey -- that place looks good."
---
Jim didn't drink anything at dinner. In fact, he didn't drink anything for the rest of the night. For some reason, that memory of Pam made him lose the desire to drink anything else that night.
They had stopped at a Greek taverna, and were sharing a saganaki appetizer. Upon igniting the cheese, everyone around them cried, "Opa!" which strangely made Jim feel a little less alone at that moment.
Mike had set the camera on the seat next to him. He should have been filming right now -- his employment contract stated that he was supposed to have the camera on the subject the entire time they were together -- but his shoulder was starting to hurt, and he really felt bad for Jim. The guy was a wreck. "Are you going to call Jessica?" he asked.
Jim's head snapped up, as if he'd been interrupted. "Hm?" he said. He yawned widely, covering his mouth.
"Are you planning on calling Jessica - the girl that gave you her number?" Mike asked again.
"Um, I don't know," Jim said. "Maybe. I mean, I suppose I don't have much to lose, do I?"
Mike shrugged. "Probably not," he said.
The dinner arrived, and they ate in silence. Jim's head was heavy. The alcohol definitely had something to do with it, but that image of Pam -- holding onto her, his hands against her flat, smooth stomach ... He dropped his fork onto the plate. "Can you excuse me?" he asked. He got up and went to the men's room.
He relieved himself quickly, and washed his hands, looking at his reflection as he did so. He never really found himself to be particularly attractive, but he wouldn't call himself ugly, either. Dwight certainly had them all beat in that category - if they were talking about goofy-looking people. Still, he wondered what it was that made that Jessica girl give him her phone number. He pulled the napkin out of his pocket again, staring at her handwriting. It was big and loopy, exactly what you'd expect from a blonde named "Jessica." He contemplated throwing it out. What did he really need with a girl like that? He wasn't from around here. Then again, she knew that -- she probably wasn't looking for a commitment. She'd said it herself, "I'm just a girl that likes to have a bit of fun, y'know?" What was wrong with a little fun? He was available. Pam was getting married... in a matter of hours. She wasn't and would never be the love of his life. He breathed out through his nose, hearing the air as it cleared his nostrils.
He'd call her tomorrow. Maybe they'd just ... have a little fun.
---
Pam was surprised how well she slept on the plane. She normally slept very badly on flights, but given the lack of sleep she'd had the last few nights, and the fact that she was on the plane for 14 hours -- well, that certainly helped. It was easy to sleep, and she found herself ensconced in a series of odd dreams, all of which involved one or more of her coworkers.
She dreamt about Dwight asking her to marry her. That was probably the most disturbing. Especially when Dwight gave her creepy googly eyes and tried to kiss her. The best part of the dream was when Jim walked in on Dwight trying to kiss her and punched Dwight out. Dwight fell quickly, his lumberous body crumpling to the floor. Jim gave her that look -- that look he had probably given her a thousand times -- that look that she realized meant, "I would do anything for you."
She dreamt about walking in on Jan and Michael having sex. Hm - maybe that was the most disturbing one. Something about Michael, hairy and shirtless -- ewww. It reminded her of that scene from the movie Office Space when the main character, Peter, imagined his boss having sex with his girlfriend. Ugh. Michael naked --- just --no.
She dreamt about Kelly and Ryan getting married. When she looked down at Ryan's foot, she saw a ball-and-chain attached. Then she looked down at her foot, and felt another heavy ball-and-chain attached to her foot. When she turned to her right, she saw she was holding hands with Roy. She tried to run away at that point, but the ball was too heavy for her to move. Roy kept asking, "What's wrong?" in that stupid, clueless way he was so good at. She wanted so badly to get out of there. That was the most vivid and involved dream. She looked across the crowd and saw Jim, his arm around Katy. He was giving her a kiss on the cheek. She called out his name, but he wouldn't look at her.
The last dream was she and Jim sitting on the rooftop at Dunder-Mifflin. And, like that one night when Michael had taken out that client, Jim and her were sitting on the rooftop, eating some of his "famous" grilled-cheese sandwiches. This time, though, they were lying on a blanket, looking at the stars. Jim was feeding her bites of sandwich. And every time his finger hit her lips, she just managed to overcompensate and suck on his finger for a second. She tasted the bitter sharpness of his fingertips, generously licking her lips each time he went to get another bite. When the sandwich was gone, he reached over and kissed her -- slowly and deliberately, his tongue flicking in and out of her mouth, dancing with hers -- he tasted faintly like toast and cheddar cheese and wine -- they'd been drinking wine, too. (Why on the roof of Dunder-Mifflin? Who knew?) And she rolled over on top of him and they kissed some more. His lips were tender and soft, so soft -- the gentle touch of his full lips made her want him more -- she kissed him harder, shoving her tongue deep into his mouth, leaning her body into him, feeling him slowly come alive down below, which made her want him even more.... he kissed her neck, moving down her sternum, her back starting to arch...
That was when she woke up. She felt ... weird. Pam sat up quickly, looking around her. The person sitting next to her was still asleep. She was suddenly extremely grateful for having an aisle seat as she got up and almost ran to the bathroom.
Author's Chapter Notes:
Pam goes after Jim ...
