Fancy New Beesly wants to be honest. Fancy New Beesly takes art classes and even took part at a small show. Fancy New Beesly wants to be spontaneous and take chances... she even walked over hot coals!

Pam, though, thinks that it would’ve been so much better if she’d had some time to check her destination on map quest and print the route. Of course, she doesn’t own a printer, and it’s almost midnight. There is no way the security guard would let her inside the office. 

But as she thinks all this, she is driving towards the I-80, a vague memory of that time a couple of years ago, when she took a small training program at corporate and Roy drove her to New York. She could always look at the signs, she thought. She could stop, buy a map, and improvise. With a deep breath she tries to put aside the fact that she is terrified.

The streets in the outskirts of Scranton look empty and eerie. With a slightly trembling hand, Pam turns on the radio, willing for the station to cooperate and help her pretend she is not alone. That nagging inside voice that tells her she could’ve had some sleep and waited for daylight gets drowned by Travis, and Pam is sure it is a sign.

She is happy the moment she reaches the interstate. Trucks and some cars give the illusion it’s not so late, and she even matches a car’s speed for some miles, and pretends they are in this together. It is past 1 when she finally stops at a well-lit gas station for a cup of coffee, and some chocolate. A rack displays several maps from the area and the nearby cities, and Pam browses for a long time before making up her mind and taking two she is not sure she will be able to read. 

This second stretch of the road feels very different, though. As if the brief pause has changed something inside her. If she had some doubts at first, now they seem to have grown to occupy all the available space in her small car. What is she going to do once she gets into the city? Get some place to spend the rest of the night? Maybe a motel? Where will she leave her car? One of those parking areas that cost a fortune? And most importantly, what will she do the next morning? She has no idea at what time is the interview taking place, although she trusts she can get the information from the receptionist. And then what? Show up in the middle of it and try to stop it? Call Jim? Meet him? Talk to him before? After? And what to do if she’d meet Karen? Or even Michael? That last thought makes her shudder, and a new wave of doubts assaults her.

Decisively, she turns up the volume and Britney Spears helps her drown some of them. Steadily she drives and it’s almost 3 in the morning when a faint glow at the end of the road suggests the lights of one of the the city that never sleeps.

Pam makes up her mind at the last minute. She won’t get in just now. She’s too tired to think properly, and not willing to spend a fortune in a hotel in Manhattan. Looking for the signs next to the road she finally finds a Motel 6 and exits. It’s not the nicest nor the safest of places, but there is free parking and a bed, and, for the time being, that’s all she needs.

When she finally gets inside a room that smells like boiled onions, and puts the chain on the door, she takes a deep breath that feels like the first one since Jim left the office so many hours before. Pausing just to set the alarm of her cellphone for three hours later, Pam collapses on the bed and sleep arrives almost instantly.

The alarm sounds way too soon, but Pam has heard about traffic jams entering the city and she is so close now, she doesn't want to risk it… even though she still does not have a plan.

After a quick shower she realises she didn't pack extra clothes. Clean underwear and a sweatshirt she slept on would have to do. It feels inadequate but then again, how are you supposed to dress when you're planning to ruin a person's career-defining interview? She doesn't come up with an answer but uses extra deodorant just in case.

The gloomy motel receptionist from the night before has been replaced by a chatty young man that actually helps her pointing the best way into the city and marking in one of the maps several parking spaces where she can leave her small Yaris. She follows the directions and by 8 o'clock Pam is squeezed between two suited men inside an overcrowded subway train.

Her focus jumps from finding her way to coming up with a plan and at least she manages the first because she has no clue about the second.

The only reasonable thing she manages is emerging from the subway station two stops far from her destination because she doesn't want to jump into Jim or Karen by accident, before knowing exactly what to do. Walking around she finally gets inside a Starbucks, orders a black coffee venti and a muffin and manages to find a seat amongst office men and women hurriedly swallowing some breakfast before their working hours. 

Between bites of muffin, she manages to produce an idea though, and a minute after 9 am she types in her cell phone a number she knows by heart.

"Dunder Mifflin, this is Grace."

"Hi Grace, this is Pam."

"Pam, this is not your regular number. Everything ok?"

"Uhm yeah…" at that very instant the coffee machine makes a tell-tale sound and she winces. "Quick question. There are some people from my branch com-going to the city for interviews. Do you happen to know the hours of their appointments?"

"Michael got the dates wrong again?" Grace almost whispered with a small laugh and Pam gave a non committal answer. "Let me see… I have him at 10."

"Oh," Pam said, trying to sound nonchalant. "And… the rest?"

If Grace suspected something weird, she didn't say and Pam was grateful for receptionists’ loyalty. "From Scranton… yes I have a Karen Filip-lippe-"

"Filipelli."

"Yes. 11.00. And Jim Halpert at noon.”

Pam thanks Grace effusively, but it gets drowned by her saying that "They are not very punctual though," and then both women hang up.

There is still time, Pam thinks. She could-

And again, a blank. She doesn’t know where Jim is staying, and since that had been a last minute trip, she couldn't think who would know except him. And, of course, Karen. And even if Pam knew, what could she do? Knock at their hotel room to be greeted by Karen in a robe asking what the fuck was she doing there while Jim emerged from the bathroom wearing only a towel?

Pam shook her head and finished her breakfast. No. The only place she could really get a chance, albeit small, of a one on one with Jim, was the corporate offices. And maybe it was not so bad to come in before them.

The tall building looks old-fashion and foreboding. People rush inside and Pam hides around the corner. She is not sure David Wallace would recognise her but Jan Levinson surely would and that's a conversation she really doesn't want to have, least of all while trying to keep her eyes focused on Jan's and not on her recent surgery.

Looking at her watch she finally makes up her mind. She has to do it quickly because it's almost 9.30 and maybe just maybe Michael will be early.

The guard at the ground floor eyes her suspiciously. She does have a Dunder Mifflin ID but the sweatshirt and jeans seem very out of place. When the guard calls Grace for confirmation, Pam prays that the extent of the receptionists network reaches her current predicament.

Finally, after several "mmhmm", the guard looks at her up and down and points at an elevator. As Pam almost runs towards it, she feels her phone vibrate.

"Do they know you're here?" It's from Grace.

"No. Please don't tell!!!!"

Her reply takes some time but Pam is inside the elevator so it makes sense. When she finally reaches the floor and almost ducks towards a door with the sign “fire exit”. She is standing in a small hall, a couple of supply closets to her right and the door to the stairs to her left. She checks her phone again.

"Won't tell but I want details later."

"Promise." Pam types, as she makes sure that the door does not have a built-in alarm, and enters, to take a seat in the bottom step of the stairs.

"Is it about Michael and Jan?" That message actually makes her chuckle, but it gives her a nice alibi should she need one later.

"I swear I'll tell you later. You're the best Grace."

And there is no answer.