Archer

What?

Ugh, yes I'll accept the charges.

Goddamn, who is it? Cancer?

I think it's Mr. Archer. Hello?

Carol, hey, shut up. I need your help.

And that's how you ask? Wait, Pam? Is that you?

- Yes. - Great, shut up, because I'm talking to Carol,

and Carol, here's the deal-- let me guess. You're all butt-hurt

because Lana hired some Pakistani dude to shoot you,

so you went to Vegas, and now you're drunk and broke outside a casino,

and you want me to wire a thousand dollars

to buy you a plane ticket and a pre-flight whore.

Okay, I'm gonna list everything you just said that's totally wrong. A...

Not outside a casino, so...

Okay, it's gonna sound like I'm hanging up? But--

No. No. Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait! C'mon, I really need your help.

Okay, where do I send the--

Hang on! Make him beg!

Pam, goddamn it, I said shut up!

You shut up! Jesus, I'm sending you the money for your stupid plane ticket!

Which would be great...

If I were not on the no-fly list.

How did you get on the no-fly list?

Uh...

Help! Get it off!

I wanna fly the plane!

You know, who knows? It's the government. That's not important--

What is important is getting me home.

Ugh, fine, then I'll send money for a stupid train ticket.

Which would also be great...

I wanna fly the train!

Wow, I had no idea there was a "no-train" list.

Well, neither did I,

but apparently there is, and before you ask, the answer is no, Carol.

A thousand times no.

I will not-- I cannot ride the bus.

Wh--? Stop! Goddamn it, I said no!

Simone, I swear to God, I will rub

your own remaining teeth in your eyes!

You ain't got...

So. I don't care what it costs me, financially or self-respectfully,

but I need you to do me a big favor.

Oh, thank you! Thank you, God!

Yay! Right?

Archer, you look like shit.

And--

And obviously thank you, too.

Asmodeus, destroyer of men.

All I needed was an airplane!

So why is it full of you idiots?

I wasn't going to sit around the office all by myself!

Because one of us needed

some multi-engine time for his pilot's license--

And one of us would go pretty much anywhere to piss off your mother.

Hello. Hello? Son of a...

Fine! Then I'll just get my own ice!

No. I'll drink it neat.

And me and Krieger are all about going to Branson! Booyah!

And I assume Branson is some sort of all-one-cares-to-eat establishment?

You're kidding, right? Say what?

It's only the biggest country music tourist destination in the world!

Wait a minute, is this about Cherlene? Who?

She has no memory of any of that.

Wait, what? You don't remember being the number one country singer in America?

Pfff, okay...

Besides, Branson isn't just country music!

There's Tony Orlando, Charo--

the comedy stylings of Yakov Smirnoff!

How do you not know about Branson?

I guess the same reason I don't know what grits are, or... hush puppies!

Are you serious? Oh, my God.

Hush puppies are little balls of fried cornmeal batter.

Mm. Not really, though.

Well, and also shoes.

Well thank you, Cyril. I was just angry, now I'm confused and angry.

Good morning, ladies and gentlemen.

This is captain Ray Gillette, welcoming you aboard from the flight deck.

Flight time to Branson is about three hours.

No it isn't! Shut up! And in the meantime,

if you look out the left side of the cabin--

you can just make out Nellis Air Force base, home to... Area 51!

Wait, what? Seriously?

Hey, watch it! Ow! Man, I can't see it!

See what? What's Area 51? What's Area--

Are you shitting me? Everybody knows about Area 51!

Yeah, even me, and I didn't even know they made shoes out of cornbread.

It's where the government keeps all the aliens that have crashed on earth.

Well, allegedly, but--

Oh, my God. Cyril, shut up.

Oh, so you believe the United States government

is actually harboring extra-terrestrial life-forms

at an air force base in the Nevada desert.

No. Ray!

Get in closer, I can't see jack dick!

No, this is good.

That airspace is all extremely restricted, so--

- Oh come on, you pussy! - For the love of God, man!

Well, maybe a little closer.

Whoa, hang on, what're you doing?

And what are you wearing?

It was in the crew locker. I think it looks pretty sharp.

- Really? - Ray, get closer!

- Pam, shut up! - Make her!

- Look, Ray, I know you don't do well with peer pressure-- - Wha-a-a-aa?

Teacup pig. Oh. Yeah.

And how big was Li'l Hamlet when you finally had to get rid of him?

He was up there. Yeah.

Like three hundred shit-covered pounds.

But seriously, Ray. Don't dick around with the air force.

That's a top-secret base down there and they've got surface-to-air missiles, so--

Ray! Pam!

Ray? Krieger!

Ra-ay!

What? God-- Damn it!

What? That.

Goddamn it. Everybody hang on!

God damn it!

I said, hang on.

Ya know...

Jesus Christ, Ray, do something!

Besides fly the goddamn plane?

Oh, you're already-- sorry, I didn't know what the deal was, if you--

I think I can land it! But I gotta... put it down... at Nellis!

Where the missiles are coming from? It's either that or frickin' crash!

Okay, sorry, just making sure there's not a third option we haven't--

Get out!

Are we gonna die?

Not today, gorgeous, not today.

I mean, probably today, but--

Krieger! Everybody! Calm down!

Ray says he can land us at Nellis!

You mean right at Area 51?

Yes, Pam! Happy?

I mean... yes?

But who needs ice?

It's perfectly fine without ice.

Just ask Europe. Lana?

No?

Come in dear, what're you doing? Come in here.

Hello!

Hello dear, drink? Uh, no?

Well, you're not missing much.

No ice. Not a cube.

And I can't wait to hear her flimsy excuse this time.

Get out the plane! Put your hands up!

Get out of the plane now! Let's go, let's move!

Wow, those guys look... furious.

Yeah, no shit! So thank you, Ray!

For what, safely landing the plane?

What, like that cancels out getting it shot down in the first place?

You were the one yapping your damn head off about my damn teacup pig!

Who I hope to see on my next BLT!

Well too bad, because he... went to... live on a...

A farm! Exactly!

So unless that farm had a magical talking spider--

Yeah, they don't keep 'em around for their milk.

And I don't know that we're accomplishing as much as we could be right now.

Hmm. How about now?

Oh my God, I bet it's nerve gas!

Just like they sprayed on Duddy Kravitz in "Close Encounters"!

Wait, what? It's not nerve gas, you idiots, it's--

You think the CIA's above nerve gas?

I-- holy shit, that's right, it's the CIA! I've got Q-clearance!

Wait, what? What does that even mean?

It means get naked.

C'mon, let's go. Gun's out, buns out.

Don't shoot! Hands up, everybody!

We're coming out! Don't shoot!

Do not shoot!

Guys, it's okay, I--

He's got a weapon! He's got a weapon! Gun!

Q-clearance! I've got Q-clearance!

Seriously, is that even a real thing?

Q-clearance? We'll see about that.

What's your authentication phrase?

Sweet dash forty-four, tender dash nine, hot dash juicy pork chops!

I didn't pick it.

Authentication checks out, sir. Says here he's Agent Slater.

Hmph! Well, Agent Slater!

What? Who? Agent Slater.

Shut up. How'd you get Slater's codeword?

You mind telling me why in God's green dick you were in my airspace?

Well, our airspace, for starters, right?

Since I have CIA clearance and all.

And not that it's any of your business, lieutenant...

Colonel. Lieutenant Colonel, but during transport of these prisoners--

black site, pretty icky stuff.