It was a gray, ugly Tuesday in the gray, ugly airport, and of course Liz Lemon's flight was delayed three hours. The television writer adjusted her name tag, her countenance permanently in an irritated and exhausted state. Liz's thin, chestnut-brown brows ever furrowing as she sighed, following her sepia-toned eyes slipping down to her wrist to check the time. Then of course, looking up because Liz remembered that she had lost her watch last week and hadn't had time to replace it.

She sighed out loud, and her jaw hitched in a frown. Even though Liz didn't have her watch, she could tell it was late. If Liz peered outside the window, she could see gray clouds lumping together in the sky. The billowing puffs stretched the entire window frame, leaving Liz Lemon fairly certain that the skies were missing all hints of azul blue. She was a mess. Liz had forgotten most of her schedule in the binder Jack gave her, had only eaten jellybeans for breakfast and lunch, and she was pretty sure that she was not wearing underwear but an adult-sized diaper from the pack that Liz had only bought for Jenna because the star of TGS was going through a liquid-only diet. She sighed again, this time more quietly.

Why was it always that no matter where she went, Liz Lemon would have the most terrible luck and the weather of tired New York?

She now regretted very much taking Jack up on his offer to bring TGS to Midwest cities like Chicago, Minneapolis, and currently St. Louis. Those were the lowest demographic for TGS in the whole country, and it was Jack's best idea to scoop up ratings for NBC. It was also his only idea. But Liz went along with it, because she really didn't want to have a back-up plan in case the show really did get canceled. Jenna had offered to come with her to "inspire the children with the power of my talent," but dropped out two days prior because her exercise video was finally taking off in Connecticut, and she was going on a state-wide tour called "Jenna Maroney's Incredible Exercise Show: One Night Only with My Heart and My Sexuality." A working title, Liz hoped. So then Pete volunteered to go with Liz, but came to work the next day with a broken arm. His only explanation was "kids. Don't ask." Even Tracy had made plans to promote the tv show, and had packed his bags with his new signature line of suitcases with his face on it. The catch of the suitcases? They had built-in heaters to keep clothes warm, but they heated up so much, a number of the customers ended up in the ER with second-degree burns, and subsequently, lawsuits. So Tracy had to stay back to go to court, and Kenneth was his attendant for any need.

So here she was, stuck at a stopover airport in middle-of-nowhere, Indiana, all alone. Of course she was. She checked her wrist and grimaced. No, still no watch.

Liz grabbed her bag and went up to the helpdesk. She rolled her luggage, a gray suitcase and a striped duffel with "Liz" embroidered into the cover. A polite, afroed woman stood behind the counter, waiting patiently for the request.

"Do you know when the plane is supposed to get here?"

The woman, decorated in a typical flight attendant's garb complete with a scarf slipped to the side, answered, "Oh, St. Louis is experiencing a massive thunderstorm, and it's unsafe to try to fly in that kind of weather."

Liz Lemon nodded. "I got it. So… where am I right now?" She gestured to the area around her, pointing fingers.

"Just outside of Pawnee, Indiana," the woman declared proudly.

"Okay, and that's near where?"

"It's an hour away from Indianapolis. But we'd be happy to give you a full refund and access to a number of hotels in the area."

Liz smiled sadly, "Sure, I'll take it."

She immediately grabbed her phone as the woman turned away to write a check and grab a city pamphlet. On the phone, she typed in the ten digits to Jack Donaghy's number.

A high-pitched, but clearly male voice answered. "Hi Liz. Jack can't speak with you right now. He's in a meeting with Hank Hooper and a couple of his delegates. Call back later."

"Wait, wait," Liz whispered so as not to be angrily stared at by the parents of the sleeping baby a few seats away. "Can you take a message, Jonathan?"

A frustrated sigh from Jonathan. "What is it?" he said with strangled politeness.

Her eyes widened in disdain, then lowered to convey the message, "Can you tell Jack that the flight to St. Louis was cut off midway through, and I'm stuck here in somewhere called Pinee, Indiana. Or something like that. The presentation is going to have to be canceled."

"Is that near Indianapolis?"

"An hour," she said, raising her eyebrows in expression.

"Okay. I'll give your message to Mr. Donaghy when he's done."

"Thank you, Jonathan," Liz said and promptly hung up.