And Why Is She So Sad? (30 Rock, Conan, Jack/Liz, Conan/Liz)
Title: And Why Is She So Sad?
Prompt: un_love_you #10. I'm broken.
Fandom: 30 Rock
Characters/Pairings: Conan, Jack, Liz, Tracy, Jack/Liz, some Conan/Liz
Spoilers: through 'Subway Hero'
Word Count: 2,547
Rating: PG
Table: Over here.
Summary: A few reasons why Conan O'Brien is so very unhappy.
Disclaimer: Characters are not mine. Please don't sue.
*
Reason #1: Jack Donaghy.
"Look, Jack... I really don't want to do this."
"Just as you didn't want Tracy to be a guest, just as you didn't want to feature a segment in which the Masturbating Bear got aroused by a trivection oven, just as you didn't--"
Conan waves his hand. "Yeah, yeah, I don't want to do it but I'm going to have to do it anyway. Well, guess what? I'm putting my foot down. MILF Island is disgusting trash. Each new edition somehow manages to be even more offensive and having the latest contestant to get thrown off appear on my show every week until the season is over is not appealing to me. At all. Do you know how many Oscar winners I've had on my show? Helen Mirren called me charming and I have to talk to some bimbo about her experience in Erection Cove. It's belittling to me and my show and everyone who works here, not to mention--"
Jack sighs. "Must we do this every time I present you with a way to improve your show's quality and ratings? Accept the fact that there's no way you can refuse so we may end this meeting and move on with our day. It's unfair to both of us to waste so much time in each other's company."
Conan stares at Jack for about twenty-five seconds. "I truly do hate you."
"I know." He seems unfazed; he must get that a lot. Or maybe he just doesn't care. "Mikayla will be booked for Thursday." He starts to walk away, says this without looking back: "Be sure to ask her about her upcoming line of short shorts."
Reason #2: The guests.
Not just the guests he has to have on. And not all of them. But a lot of the people he has to feign interest in are so vapid, so full of uninteresting stories, and are there to promote awful, awful films. He had to pretend The Love Guru looked good. The Love Guru.
But, hey. He did have Helen Mirren on.
But there aren't many Helen Mirrens. There are a lot more Vivica A. Foxes.
So many more.
Reason #3: Elizabeth Lemon.
The day after he has his first painful interview with a MILF Island castoff, Conan learns that Liz is working on the last winner's upcoming show. Working title: Getting Up with Deborah. Conan doesn't know if it's going to be a morning show or if they're making an erection reference. Either way, classy.
So. Very. Classy.
He can't believe Liz would be involved with this sort of thing; he remembers when they dated, back in Chicago, how she used to say she would never compromise herself to become successful. She was going to be funny and daring and break all the rules and now her show has more production integration sketches than his does.
He wishes she still possessed the integrity she thought she did. He wishes he had the integrity he thought he did. Sometimes, he wishes they'd never split up. (He loves his wife, but. Yeah. He loves his wife.)
Mostly, he has issues with her not being the Liz he wants her to be; the fearless, beautiful comedy queen he once wrote a song about. (He played it for her the night she broke up with him. He thought the honesty of his emotion would make her change her mind.) He doesn't like that she's apparently Jack Donaghy's best friend? This is what he's heard, anyway. They're very close, and Liz goes up to Jack's office willingly. All the time.
It's highly unsettling.
(He's written a song about this rumored situation, too: "A Snake in the Lemon Tree." He hasn't played it for anyone.)
Reason #4: Tracy Jordan.
Tracy tried to murder him. Tracy tried to murder him and nobody thinks he should be upset. Seriously, every time he's brought it up in the past couple of years, someone replied, "You're still mad about that?" Like he was talking about Tracy stealing a muffin from his desk instead of trying to take his life.
And the last time Conan saw Tracy -- briefly, as the elevator opened on the Late Night floor and Tracy was inside, singing "Every Breath You Take" (an anthem for stalkers, he would point out later to those who don't take his fear seriously) -- Conan jumped back and everyone looked at him like he was the crazy one. He was insane for being afraid of someone who periodically imagines himself to be a stabbing robot.
Reason #5: Tracy Jordan.
Yeah, this needs two slots. Because Tracy tried to put a knife into his brain.
Reason #6: Tracy Jordan.
You know what? Another slot because he should be in jail, not on television.
Reason #7: Pretty much everyone he works with.
Did you hear the thing about how they don't care that he almost got stabbed? The only one who seems concerned is Max, and Conan thinks that might only be because he once had a run-in with Tracy backstage. Max knows firsthand the terror of dealing with an off-his-meds Tracy.
(To be honest: He thinks Max might have deserved it.)
Reason #8: Interruptions.
Conan likes to walk around the building at night, after most everyone else has gone home. The quiet helps him clear his head and make sense of it all; helps him remember the joy he used to feel in this job, right after the media stopped talking about how choosing him to succeed Letterman was one of the biggest mistakes in television history and right before his show became popular enough for the executives to want to whore him out. It helps him revisit those times when he thought, 'Wow, maybe I can be good at this,' and not 'Wow, why did I ever want to do this?' It's calming, gives him the strength to come into work the next day, and quells the nerves he has about taking over for Leno in a couple years.
It's what keeps him sane.
Sometimes, though, it's interrupted. Usually by Kenneth acting out an interview -- he's obsessed with Zach Braff to the point where Conan warned Braff about it when he was last a guest; he thinks said warning is why Braff hasn't returned since -- and once by a strange elderly man who wanted to tell him stories about the past of NBC. Conan had never heard of Bucky Bright, but apparently he worked at the network during its 'younger days.'
"Oh, that's interesting," Conan said mildly, extending his hand to Bucky. He frowned as Bucky, instead of shaking Conan's hand, brought it to his lips and kissed it. "Uh--"
"You want to talk about interesting, one time--"
"I'm sorry." Conan pulled his hand out of the old man's grasp. He sighed, slumped his shoulders. "I have to... be somewhere."
"Yeah," Bucky said. "No one wants to hear my stories."
An obvious opening for Conan to disagree, but he wasn't interested and didn't feel like pretending. "I'll see you around."
"I don't want this to sound rude, Miss, but you should smile more," he replied. "Then the girls will see how pretty you are."
"Yeah," Conan said slowly. "Thanks for the advice."
Now, his alone time is being interrupted by Jack and Liz.
Reason #9: Jack Donaghy and Elizabeth Lemon.
Though Jack and Liz don't know they're interrupting him. They aren't even looking at him, as they're preoccupied with kissing each other.
Conan will never go to the TGS floor again. Never. It was silly he ever did, as it opened him up to the possibility of having an awkward meeting with Liz. But, on the other hand, he did enjoy seeing her, even if their interactions were somewhat stilted.
But watching her make out with Jack Donaghy is not enjoyable. On any level.
He moves quickly to the elevators as his mind tries to turn this revelation into something less horrifying. Maybe it's not that Jack and Liz have grown exceptionally close; maybe they're only sleeping together. Maybe Jack used some sort of obnoxious rich guy voodoo to ensnare Liz. (He is a snake.) But God, maybe they're sleeping together and really close and why do things like this happen in the world? Why do things like this happen to him?
Conan pushes the button forcefully until the elevator finally arrives. He gets on, hits the number of the floor below. Waits for the door to close. He hits the button next to that. Then the one under that. And on and on and why isn't this thing moving? He hears their voices and he begins to hit furiously at the 'door close' button, but the elevator doesn't close. He's being mocked, isn't he? He's being punished by some higher force. He starts hitting a bunch of other floors and the 'door close' button and he's still not going anywhere, listening to Jack and Liz's conversation get easier to hear.
"If you haven't made love on an elevator," Jack says, "you haven't truly lived."
"Ugh, gross. You say that about every place you could possibly do it," Liz replies.
"And you always act like you're disinterested. But let's face it, Lemon, you always end up grabbing--"
That's when Jack stops because he and Liz are standing right in front of the elevator and the nervous man inside it. Conan stops hitting the buttons and leans against the back of the elevator as nonchalantly as he can. Jack's eyes widen, his mouth forming an 'o' before he forgets (masks?) his surprise and flashes the sort of smirk that's permanently etched on the faces of jerks who get to sleep with women who are too good for them. Liz doesn't stop looking surprised.
"Good evening, Conan."
"Yes. Uh, hi, Conan," Liz says.
"Elizabeth." Conan nods. "Jack."
"I'm surprised to see you," Jack says. "I would've thought you'd gone home by now. Your show filmed hours ago; your writing staff doesn't seem to have the fortitude or discipline to work long into the night."
"Well, sometimes I like to work alone." Most times, in fact. "And I am going home. Right now."
"As are we," Liz says. "Going home. Separately."
"There's no need to make this more awkward by lying. He certainly heard part of our conversation."
Conan nods. "I did."
"And I'm sure he doesn't care if we're romantically involved."
Romantically involved. Romantically involved? Why couldn't Jack have said, 'having sex'? He could still mean that, though. Jack seems like the type to conflate romance and meaningless sex. Be all, "Here, my darling, have a rose. Then we shall do it on a pile of trash." Or something. You know. Whatever douchebags who sleep with a lot of women do. It's probably not that. It's probably a different mix of romance and meaningless sex.
Whatever it is, it sickens Conan.
Conan is silent as Jack steps onto the elevator. Liz gets on, too. Jack leans forward and hits the button for the first floor, then the 'door close' button. The elevator finally starts its descent.
Reason #10: Elevators hate him.
Conan is regretting hitting all those buttons, since it's resulting in them stopping at every floor. But only ten more floors to go and it'll start moving faster. And soon after that, he will be out of this elevator.
That'll be great.
Conan exhales. Jack exhales. Liz says, "He wasn't going to say 'crotch' or anything before. He was going to say 'face.' Because that's what happens, he starts talking about wanting to do it somewhere and I'll tell him to stop being gross, but then I'll think about it for a little bit and grab his face and kiss him and... after some other stuff... we'll, uh. Yeah." She exhales. "I don't know why I told you that. It does not make this less awkward."
"No," Conan agrees. "It does not."
Jack, as always, seems remarkably composed. "There's no reason why this should be awkward. We're all reasonable adults."
"Yes," Liz agrees. "Reasonable adults. On an elevator. Good times for us all. Yay!" she adds weakly and oddly.
"Lemon," Jack says, "you must calm down."
"Why don't you calm down?"
"Because I am calm. It doesn't matter to me if Conan O'Brien knows we're together," he says, and Conan does not like how dismissively Jack uttered his name. "Practically everyone in this building knows we're dating."
Together. Dating. Not 'having meaningless sex.' Not 'doing it and sharing some moments of mild romance.' Together. Dating. But dating could still mean 'having meaningless sex.' You know. With the mixing of sex and romance by the douchey. Though, God, that is still awful, too. But the thought of getting an invitation to a Donaghy-Lemon wedding is so much worse.
He should get off this elevator. And smack his head against a wall.
"What?" she says. "When did that happen?"
"When you told Jenna. I'm sure Conan knew about our relationship before this."
Conan shakes his head. "I didn't. I knew you two had become close. But I didn't know about... dating."
"Either way," Jack says, "I'm sure he's not surprised."
"I am, actually." Conan lets out a breath. "But it's none of my business. You can have all the meaningless sex you want."
"It's not meaningless," Liz says. "Why would you say meaningless?"
Jack glances over at him. "Because that's what he would prefer our relationship to consist of," he says, and Conan is uncomfortable with the realization that Jack can see through him, "for he despises me and doesn't despise you."
"Yeah," Conan admits. "Pretty much it."
"Oh," Liz says. "So. This is still very awkward."
"At this point, I would agree," Jack says.
Conan nods. "You know what? I'm going to get off."
The elevator has stopped opening its doors at every floor, so Conan hits a lower floor. It doesn't stop. Another button. It doesn't stop.
Oh, come on.
"Well, okay. We'll be at the first floor soon enough." Conan is trying to sound calm, but he wants to punch something and he thinks it shows in his voice. "So I guess I'll wait it out."
And he does. It's hardly any time at all, but it feels like forever. He doesn't say goodnight when Jack and Liz get off the elevator. He hits the button for his floor. Now, he definitely has to clear his head. His plan is to sit behind his desk and try to recall the time when he was happy. God, that feels like so long ago. And it was long ago. Years ago.
He finds Kenneth on his set, perched on the guest chair. "Yes," he's saying to an imaginary Conan, "I do have a clip."
Conan sighs. Walks away.
Reason #11: Tracy Jordan and the fact that elevators hate him.
The next day, he yells to whoever is in it to hold the elevator. When he gets there, Tracy is inside and doing a terrifying robot dance. Conan screams. Jumps back. Slips and falls right on his ass. No less than twenty people witness this. Almost all of them are laughing.
He can't wait to go to California. That'll have to make his life better.
Certainly can't make it worse.
END
Prompt: un_love_you #10. I'm broken.
Fandom: 30 Rock
Characters/Pairings: Conan, Jack, Liz, Tracy, Jack/Liz, some Conan/Liz
Spoilers: through 'Subway Hero'
Word Count: 2,547
Rating: PG
Table: Over here.
Summary: A few reasons why Conan O'Brien is so very unhappy.
Disclaimer: Characters are not mine. Please don't sue.
*
Reason #1: Jack Donaghy.
"Look, Jack... I really don't want to do this."
"Just as you didn't want Tracy to be a guest, just as you didn't want to feature a segment in which the Masturbating Bear got aroused by a trivection oven, just as you didn't--"
Conan waves his hand. "Yeah, yeah, I don't want to do it but I'm going to have to do it anyway. Well, guess what? I'm putting my foot down. MILF Island is disgusting trash. Each new edition somehow manages to be even more offensive and having the latest contestant to get thrown off appear on my show every week until the season is over is not appealing to me. At all. Do you know how many Oscar winners I've had on my show? Helen Mirren called me charming and I have to talk to some bimbo about her experience in Erection Cove. It's belittling to me and my show and everyone who works here, not to mention--"
Jack sighs. "Must we do this every time I present you with a way to improve your show's quality and ratings? Accept the fact that there's no way you can refuse so we may end this meeting and move on with our day. It's unfair to both of us to waste so much time in each other's company."
Conan stares at Jack for about twenty-five seconds. "I truly do hate you."
"I know." He seems unfazed; he must get that a lot. Or maybe he just doesn't care. "Mikayla will be booked for Thursday." He starts to walk away, says this without looking back: "Be sure to ask her about her upcoming line of short shorts."
Reason #2: The guests.
Not just the guests he has to have on. And not all of them. But a lot of the people he has to feign interest in are so vapid, so full of uninteresting stories, and are there to promote awful, awful films. He had to pretend The Love Guru looked good. The Love Guru.
But, hey. He did have Helen Mirren on.
But there aren't many Helen Mirrens. There are a lot more Vivica A. Foxes.
So many more.
Reason #3: Elizabeth Lemon.
The day after he has his first painful interview with a MILF Island castoff, Conan learns that Liz is working on the last winner's upcoming show. Working title: Getting Up with Deborah. Conan doesn't know if it's going to be a morning show or if they're making an erection reference. Either way, classy.
So. Very. Classy.
He can't believe Liz would be involved with this sort of thing; he remembers when they dated, back in Chicago, how she used to say she would never compromise herself to become successful. She was going to be funny and daring and break all the rules and now her show has more production integration sketches than his does.
He wishes she still possessed the integrity she thought she did. He wishes he had the integrity he thought he did. Sometimes, he wishes they'd never split up. (He loves his wife, but. Yeah. He loves his wife.)
Mostly, he has issues with her not being the Liz he wants her to be; the fearless, beautiful comedy queen he once wrote a song about. (He played it for her the night she broke up with him. He thought the honesty of his emotion would make her change her mind.) He doesn't like that she's apparently Jack Donaghy's best friend? This is what he's heard, anyway. They're very close, and Liz goes up to Jack's office willingly. All the time.
It's highly unsettling.
(He's written a song about this rumored situation, too: "A Snake in the Lemon Tree." He hasn't played it for anyone.)
Reason #4: Tracy Jordan.
Tracy tried to murder him. Tracy tried to murder him and nobody thinks he should be upset. Seriously, every time he's brought it up in the past couple of years, someone replied, "You're still mad about that?" Like he was talking about Tracy stealing a muffin from his desk instead of trying to take his life.
And the last time Conan saw Tracy -- briefly, as the elevator opened on the Late Night floor and Tracy was inside, singing "Every Breath You Take" (an anthem for stalkers, he would point out later to those who don't take his fear seriously) -- Conan jumped back and everyone looked at him like he was the crazy one. He was insane for being afraid of someone who periodically imagines himself to be a stabbing robot.
Reason #5: Tracy Jordan.
Yeah, this needs two slots. Because Tracy tried to put a knife into his brain.
Reason #6: Tracy Jordan.
You know what? Another slot because he should be in jail, not on television.
Reason #7: Pretty much everyone he works with.
Did you hear the thing about how they don't care that he almost got stabbed? The only one who seems concerned is Max, and Conan thinks that might only be because he once had a run-in with Tracy backstage. Max knows firsthand the terror of dealing with an off-his-meds Tracy.
(To be honest: He thinks Max might have deserved it.)
Reason #8: Interruptions.
Conan likes to walk around the building at night, after most everyone else has gone home. The quiet helps him clear his head and make sense of it all; helps him remember the joy he used to feel in this job, right after the media stopped talking about how choosing him to succeed Letterman was one of the biggest mistakes in television history and right before his show became popular enough for the executives to want to whore him out. It helps him revisit those times when he thought, 'Wow, maybe I can be good at this,' and not 'Wow, why did I ever want to do this?' It's calming, gives him the strength to come into work the next day, and quells the nerves he has about taking over for Leno in a couple years.
It's what keeps him sane.
Sometimes, though, it's interrupted. Usually by Kenneth acting out an interview -- he's obsessed with Zach Braff to the point where Conan warned Braff about it when he was last a guest; he thinks said warning is why Braff hasn't returned since -- and once by a strange elderly man who wanted to tell him stories about the past of NBC. Conan had never heard of Bucky Bright, but apparently he worked at the network during its 'younger days.'
"Oh, that's interesting," Conan said mildly, extending his hand to Bucky. He frowned as Bucky, instead of shaking Conan's hand, brought it to his lips and kissed it. "Uh--"
"You want to talk about interesting, one time--"
"I'm sorry." Conan pulled his hand out of the old man's grasp. He sighed, slumped his shoulders. "I have to... be somewhere."
"Yeah," Bucky said. "No one wants to hear my stories."
An obvious opening for Conan to disagree, but he wasn't interested and didn't feel like pretending. "I'll see you around."
"I don't want this to sound rude, Miss, but you should smile more," he replied. "Then the girls will see how pretty you are."
"Yeah," Conan said slowly. "Thanks for the advice."
Now, his alone time is being interrupted by Jack and Liz.
Reason #9: Jack Donaghy and Elizabeth Lemon.
Though Jack and Liz don't know they're interrupting him. They aren't even looking at him, as they're preoccupied with kissing each other.
Conan will never go to the TGS floor again. Never. It was silly he ever did, as it opened him up to the possibility of having an awkward meeting with Liz. But, on the other hand, he did enjoy seeing her, even if their interactions were somewhat stilted.
But watching her make out with Jack Donaghy is not enjoyable. On any level.
He moves quickly to the elevators as his mind tries to turn this revelation into something less horrifying. Maybe it's not that Jack and Liz have grown exceptionally close; maybe they're only sleeping together. Maybe Jack used some sort of obnoxious rich guy voodoo to ensnare Liz. (He is a snake.) But God, maybe they're sleeping together and really close and why do things like this happen in the world? Why do things like this happen to him?
Conan pushes the button forcefully until the elevator finally arrives. He gets on, hits the number of the floor below. Waits for the door to close. He hits the button next to that. Then the one under that. And on and on and why isn't this thing moving? He hears their voices and he begins to hit furiously at the 'door close' button, but the elevator doesn't close. He's being mocked, isn't he? He's being punished by some higher force. He starts hitting a bunch of other floors and the 'door close' button and he's still not going anywhere, listening to Jack and Liz's conversation get easier to hear.
"If you haven't made love on an elevator," Jack says, "you haven't truly lived."
"Ugh, gross. You say that about every place you could possibly do it," Liz replies.
"And you always act like you're disinterested. But let's face it, Lemon, you always end up grabbing--"
That's when Jack stops because he and Liz are standing right in front of the elevator and the nervous man inside it. Conan stops hitting the buttons and leans against the back of the elevator as nonchalantly as he can. Jack's eyes widen, his mouth forming an 'o' before he forgets (masks?) his surprise and flashes the sort of smirk that's permanently etched on the faces of jerks who get to sleep with women who are too good for them. Liz doesn't stop looking surprised.
"Good evening, Conan."
"Yes. Uh, hi, Conan," Liz says.
"Elizabeth." Conan nods. "Jack."
"I'm surprised to see you," Jack says. "I would've thought you'd gone home by now. Your show filmed hours ago; your writing staff doesn't seem to have the fortitude or discipline to work long into the night."
"Well, sometimes I like to work alone." Most times, in fact. "And I am going home. Right now."
"As are we," Liz says. "Going home. Separately."
"There's no need to make this more awkward by lying. He certainly heard part of our conversation."
Conan nods. "I did."
"And I'm sure he doesn't care if we're romantically involved."
Romantically involved. Romantically involved? Why couldn't Jack have said, 'having sex'? He could still mean that, though. Jack seems like the type to conflate romance and meaningless sex. Be all, "Here, my darling, have a rose. Then we shall do it on a pile of trash." Or something. You know. Whatever douchebags who sleep with a lot of women do. It's probably not that. It's probably a different mix of romance and meaningless sex.
Whatever it is, it sickens Conan.
Conan is silent as Jack steps onto the elevator. Liz gets on, too. Jack leans forward and hits the button for the first floor, then the 'door close' button. The elevator finally starts its descent.
Reason #10: Elevators hate him.
Conan is regretting hitting all those buttons, since it's resulting in them stopping at every floor. But only ten more floors to go and it'll start moving faster. And soon after that, he will be out of this elevator.
That'll be great.
Conan exhales. Jack exhales. Liz says, "He wasn't going to say 'crotch' or anything before. He was going to say 'face.' Because that's what happens, he starts talking about wanting to do it somewhere and I'll tell him to stop being gross, but then I'll think about it for a little bit and grab his face and kiss him and... after some other stuff... we'll, uh. Yeah." She exhales. "I don't know why I told you that. It does not make this less awkward."
"No," Conan agrees. "It does not."
Jack, as always, seems remarkably composed. "There's no reason why this should be awkward. We're all reasonable adults."
"Yes," Liz agrees. "Reasonable adults. On an elevator. Good times for us all. Yay!" she adds weakly and oddly.
"Lemon," Jack says, "you must calm down."
"Why don't you calm down?"
"Because I am calm. It doesn't matter to me if Conan O'Brien knows we're together," he says, and Conan does not like how dismissively Jack uttered his name. "Practically everyone in this building knows we're dating."
Together. Dating. Not 'having meaningless sex.' Not 'doing it and sharing some moments of mild romance.' Together. Dating. But dating could still mean 'having meaningless sex.' You know. With the mixing of sex and romance by the douchey. Though, God, that is still awful, too. But the thought of getting an invitation to a Donaghy-Lemon wedding is so much worse.
He should get off this elevator. And smack his head against a wall.
"What?" she says. "When did that happen?"
"When you told Jenna. I'm sure Conan knew about our relationship before this."
Conan shakes his head. "I didn't. I knew you two had become close. But I didn't know about... dating."
"Either way," Jack says, "I'm sure he's not surprised."
"I am, actually." Conan lets out a breath. "But it's none of my business. You can have all the meaningless sex you want."
"It's not meaningless," Liz says. "Why would you say meaningless?"
Jack glances over at him. "Because that's what he would prefer our relationship to consist of," he says, and Conan is uncomfortable with the realization that Jack can see through him, "for he despises me and doesn't despise you."
"Yeah," Conan admits. "Pretty much it."
"Oh," Liz says. "So. This is still very awkward."
"At this point, I would agree," Jack says.
Conan nods. "You know what? I'm going to get off."
The elevator has stopped opening its doors at every floor, so Conan hits a lower floor. It doesn't stop. Another button. It doesn't stop.
Oh, come on.
"Well, okay. We'll be at the first floor soon enough." Conan is trying to sound calm, but he wants to punch something and he thinks it shows in his voice. "So I guess I'll wait it out."
And he does. It's hardly any time at all, but it feels like forever. He doesn't say goodnight when Jack and Liz get off the elevator. He hits the button for his floor. Now, he definitely has to clear his head. His plan is to sit behind his desk and try to recall the time when he was happy. God, that feels like so long ago. And it was long ago. Years ago.
He finds Kenneth on his set, perched on the guest chair. "Yes," he's saying to an imaginary Conan, "I do have a clip."
Conan sighs. Walks away.
Reason #11: Tracy Jordan and the fact that elevators hate him.
The next day, he yells to whoever is in it to hold the elevator. When he gets there, Tracy is inside and doing a terrifying robot dance. Conan screams. Jumps back. Slips and falls right on his ass. No less than twenty people witness this. Almost all of them are laughing.
He can't wait to go to California. That'll have to make his life better.
Certainly can't make it worse.
END