All aboard, for safety and adventure!
On the rigid airship Excelsior...
... where the pampered luxury of a cruise ship...
... meets the smoothness of modern air travel.
Yes, when you fly Excelsior, you're flying in style!
- And safety! Safety?
- But isn't hydrogen flammable? - And how, Timmy!
That's why Excelsior is filled with safe...
... natural helium. Why, it's actually flame-retardant!
- Neat! - And safe!
So, whether you're enjoying Excelsior's majestic vistas...
... duty-free shopping, high-stakes baccarat...
... dancing with your lovely wife...
... or even a cigar after a French gourmet dinner...
... you'll be enjoying them in style. And safety!
- All aboard Excelsior! God.
Who'd wanna put a bomb on that?
That's what we're hoping ISIS can find out.
No, why bother? Some broad gets on there with a staticky sweater, and boom, it's:
"Oh, the humanity!"
- No, no, that... - Sterling.
Were you watching some other commercial just now?
It's a rigid airship.
- Filled with helium. - Which is non-flammable! Dumb-ass.
I thought our promotional video covered that fairly well.
Oh, and how. Sterling, it's totally safe.
Well, except for the bomb threat.
No, not to worry, dear.
ISIS won't let terrorists blow up your lovely blimp.
- Rigid airship. - My top two agents will be on board.
- Nope! - And I will oversee the operation...
personally from what I assume will be first-class accommodations.
Oh, actually we are fully booked.
Well, if you think, oh, I don't know...
this "Trudy Beekman" person can thwart a major terror plot.
I suppose we could bump Mrs. Beekman.
- Bump me, I'm not going. - Lf these two share a cabin.
- Nope! - Not going to let the terrorists win!
- We'll pose as husband and wife! - Nope!
Cyril would totally freak. Malory, let me stay with you.
We'll do the whole Oprah-Gayle thing.
Nope! I need a stateroom to myself...
in case I have a gentleman caller. - Um...
- Mother, please. - Please...
do not make me do this. - But Lana...
think of the innocent lives you'll be saving.
And also the fact that this is a direct order.
At least tell me it's separate beds.
- Um... Hmm. Ugh.
Lana.
Lana!
- Lana! - What?
Danger zone!
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Terrible, awful, just gut-wrenchingly bad feeling about this.
Baby, I really need you to trust me. Okay, now...
is the cabin small? Yes. And yet...
surprising amount of storage. - Ugh. And I'll hardly be in here, okay?
I've got a terrorist to find, and I doubt he's hiding under...
- What's basically a twin bed. - Archer.
Since it's all drawers under here, because look how tiny this room is!
- Oh, my God, it's like a broom closet. - And yet, a surprising amount of storage.
Oh, shut up, and Cyril?
- Very eager to know why you're still here. - He was just...
- Just helping Lana get settled. - Trust me, Cyril. She already settled.
- Hey! - Hey!
Disembark, Cyril. We're about to...
launch, or whatever blimps do.
Yeah, what does a blimp do, Pam?
Uh... Kick your skinny ass?
Now come on, we gotta get off this thing before...
Relax! God, we've got half an hour.
Oh. Well then, make me a double Campari and, uh...
I guess vodka?
- We don't normally drink on the bridge. - Well, I don't normally fly...
on the Hindenburg 2.0. - It's not...
Cyril doesn't normally storm off without even kissing me goodbye!
We're all out of our comfort zone.
- Not me, my stateroom is gorgeous. - Oh.
That, what's her name, Beekman? I bet she's just sick she got bumped.
Yes, she literally vomited from anger.
So if we could just focus on the bomb threat?
How about crew members?
- Anyone who might be disgruntled? - Um...
That's Lieutenant Krauss.
He and I were both up for command of the Excelsior, but...
You got it. Leaving him with motive.
Release the mooring cable!
Come on! It's not Larry Luftwaffe, that's...
Oopsie. Ha-ha-ha.
- Ugh, way too obvious.
God damn it! We're moving!
- I know! - What happened to half an hour?
- I lied! - What?
Why the hell are you two still here?
Because I knew you'd be here, because you don't trust Lana with Mr. Archer.
No! No, now that is...
- So ironic, Cyril! Ugh.
- Especially in light of recent... No.
Rug-burny events. - Oh, my God!
You two banged?
L... Uh... See, here's the thing...
- Fruit basket! - Wow. You are just a dog in a manger.
I don't know what that means, Pam.
- I didn't grow up on a cheese farm. - Oh, for the...
It's called a dairy.
Even a hint of a problem on our maiden voyage...
would kill Excelsior's stock price.
So, Lana, canvas the passengers and crew...
learn what you can about Krauss... - But please, be discreet!
Hey, good advice! Which maybe I'll just sort of fold in...
with my 12 years of experience as a covert operative.
Don't be snotty. And Sterling, if there is a bomb...
Captain, dear, where would it do the most damage?
- Probably in... - This new place called anywhere?
- This whole thing's a bomb. Jesus! - It's not...
- Wanna blow us all to shit, Sherlock? - Ow!
- Sterling! - For the last time...
the Excelsior is filled with non-flammable helium!
Although this is a non-smoking area, sir.
Damn it, he's a prospective investor!
Not after that, I bet. And forget about Krauss. There's your bomber.
- Who? What? That guy. Beardsley McTurbanhead.
You idiot. That's Sandu Singh, the billionaire investor!
- He's a Sikh! - Oh, so if he's not a Muslim...
he just gets a pass?
That's called profiling, Mother, and I don't do it.
- Singh is Excelsior's majority shareholder. - So?
If anything went wrong on this flight, he'd lose millions.
- It's a perfect cover. - Sterling.
Just look for the stupid bomb.
Relax. What do we have, like, four hours before we get to London?
- Sterling, are you joking? - The crossing takes 24 hours.
- Are you joking? What? - Rigid airships...
combine the pampering of a cruise ship...
with the speed of... - Some other, slightly faster ship?
Uh... Hello, airplanes? Yeah, it's blimps.
You win, bye! Oh, God.
- I hope you didn't invest in this. - It'll be fine, though.
As long as nothing goes wrong on this flight.
Oh, captain, my captain...
with ISIS on board, what could possibly go wrong?
Pick one!
Either A, I tell Lana what happened on that scratchy green office rug...
or two, you get inside me.
Or C, maybe I just jam this mop...
into the engine and kill all of us.
- I don't think that's how blimps work. - Darn, right.
We'd just sort of float around.
Stupid naturally safe helium!
But I am liking the jamming imagery.
- And the killing. - And are you just gonna sit there?
Yeah, until she tags me in!
- What? - I'm kidding!
My back's all messed up.
So you're ruining Cyril's life because...
in your "dream the impossible dream" world, it'll make Mr. Archer jealous?
Oh, Pamela. You read me like a poem.
Yeah? What's the poem gonna be about when Cyril snaps and murders you?
I don't know. World's gushiest orgasm?
Can you just get out of the way!
- What, are you gonna shoot me again? - Yes!
Oh. Well, then hang on.
Cyril's already freaked out enough about us sharing this shoebox...
without you air-drying your unkempt bush.
Unkempt bush? You're one to talk.
Ah. My vulva is smoother than a veal cutlet.
- With terrible timing. - Oh, really.
- Baby... - Did I interrupt something?
Oh... Rehearsal with your Commodores tribute band?
Archer! Cyril, what are you doing here?
I wanted to tell you something very important...
but apparently you're too busy showing off your vealy vulva!
Cyril! You know, your whole trust thing, and I've tried to, okay?
Okay, you know what? We are on a break!
- Oh, yeah? Yeah!
- Well, that's fine by me. - Cyril, wait.
No running! Shut up.
- Oh, my God, what have l... - What're you doing? Go after him!
- Oh. You think I should? - Yes!
We're almost out of fruit.
Which is why I find it strange that you're so incredibly calm.
Well, that seaweed wrap just slurps out the stress.
Can't wait to tell Trudy Beekman all about it.
Lf, um, we ever meet.
- What about you? Anything on Krauss? - No. Shut up.
- Have you seen Cyril? - What? Why would I have?
- And what the hell is he doing? - Hey!
- What'd I tell you, huh? Huh? - Ow! Uhn!
There! Go buy a nicotine patch!
- Gentlemen. - No, no, no, what happened to discretion?
- What happened to that bartender? - Right? Guy sees an empty glass...
and all of a sudden he's Judge Crater. - Oh, for God's sake!
Nigel, some chips for mister?
Archer. Ha. Sterling Archer.
The minimum bet is ten thousand, sir. Dollars.
I stuffed all my money in that guy's mouth, because...
Well, perhaps we could play for something much more interesting.
Yeah, cause that was seriously, like, all the cash I had on me, so.
So if I win, I spend a night of passion with your exquisite wife.
- My wi...? Oh, yes, my wife, of course. - Oh!
Yeah, that's a deal! But if I win...
you tell me where the bomb... What? - Baccarat! Mr. Singh wins.
- Wait, wait, wait, we were going? - The von Zeppelin suite.
I shall expect her within the hour.
She's not gonna be happy about that. Um...
What, are you mostly paid in tips?
- Almost entirely, sir. - Heh.
Ahem. Mm-hm.
Well, whose fault is that?
Prancing around in your Fiacci knockoffs...
blathering about your vulva. - Hey, first of all...
I'm just saying! You're driving Cyril straight toward another woman.
Cyril? With another woman?
Malory, seriously. Look at me.
Look at me! Look at and choke me!
- Oh, yes, yes! Oh, my God! - Oh, my God, what am I doing?
- Ruining your life, you idiot. - Ha-ha-ha.
And making it hard to drop a deuce.
- Uh... I'm sorry, what? - You. Now. Led Zeppelin suite.
You have no proof Singh's the bomber.
- He hinted... - That's profiling.
That the proof was in his cabin! - Really?
Yes! So go down there and find it...
while I go find the bomb. - Ugh. Bombs, bombers, vulvas.
- You people are just ruining my trip. Uh...
Well, don't stand here gaping at me!
Go thwart something!
- No running! - Zip it, Zipperface!
Oh. Kidding, sorry. Hey, have you seen that nerdy fruit-basket steward?
Check the Kaiser Wilhelm suite.
You really need new names on... Hey, what were you doing in there?
Things for authorized personnel only!
So don't go in there. It's verboten!
Ah. Okay. Probably merits a follow-up.
Archer? - Cyril? What're you...?
Archer, I need your help! I think I'm losing it here, man!
What gave it away, my mother's...? Why are you wearing my mother's robe?
- I can explain. - I don't think I want you to.
- See, it all started when you and Lana... - Cyril! You should tell her this.
I tried! But you were naked and it was all vulva this, and vulva that.
Yeah, and as you're standing here, dick and or balls caressed by my mother's robe, ugh...
Lana is waiting for you. - Really? Where?
The Led Zeppelin suite.
- There's a von Zeppelin suite. - Which I'm sure is what I meant. So, go!
- Thanks, Archer! You're the best! - I know.
So yes, the bottom line is that I was unfaithful to you.
Two... Well, three times, I guess, if a dry-humpy choker counts.
And if you can't see it in your heart to forgive me...
I will forgive you. Because that's what love is, Lana.
It's forgivey.
Which is not a word. Come on, Figgis! All right, here we go.
- Oh, why? - Hello!
- So, that's your idea of a break, huh? - Cyril! It's not what it looks like!
Well, then, what is it?
Okay, so Cyril got in over his head. - Jesus, God, did he kill her?
No, no, no, he ran from her! To go confess to Lana...
but so then this one starts freaking out, and long story short...
I kinda had to drown her in the tub. - So you killed her?
Apparently not, so...
good news. Shut up, Pam.
Did Cyril run by here crying in a woman's bathrobe?
Well, it wouldn't surprise me. You're driving him stark raving mad.
- What'd I do? - What'd you do?
Running around all up and down this stupid blimp.
- Against the rules. - Half-naked, tits bouncing around...
like you're at a rodeo, then going back to some billionaire's suite?
- I was trying to stop a bomb plot. - Oh, my God, there is no bomb!
- More good news. - And just how do you know that?
Ugh.
Because I made the bomb threat!
Trudy Beekman booked the very last ticket on this flight, so it was all:
"Meh, meh, meh. I'm Trudy Beekman.
I'm on the co-op board and I'm going on a blimp! Meh!"
- So, yes, I made a phony bomb threat. - Good for you.
And yet you lecture me. Lovely.
Hello? - So, what would you say if I told you...
that your mother made a phony bomb threat...
...just to get a free ride on a blimp? - I'd say that's fairly classic her?
- Oh, shut up. - And then I'd just sorta laugh...
at the, uh... The whatchamacallit.
Irony.
There's actually a bomb on board? Archer?
Archer? Oh, what the hell? Where the **** are you going?
Gotta get my turtleneck. I'm not defusing a bomb in this!
- No running! Shut up!
Oh, and Lana, maybe you ought to grab the Kraut. He's the bomber.
What is this? You know what it is, Fritz!
- So shut your schnitzel-hole and disarm it. - Oh.
I get it. The German guy mit a scar...
must be the bad guy. Well, you know how I got this scar?
Saving a Jewish girl from a gang of skinheads.
- Oh, Jesus. - Yeah! And so Krauss gets a curb party.
- Wow. Now I feel like an asshole. - Your words.
But could you be a lamb and disarm it anyway?
Yeah, probably.
Okay, got the turtleneck and my wire cutters. Now where are we?
We're at you just shot the guy who could disarm the bomb, jackass!
What...? I didn't shoot him!
- You think I'd bring a gun on this firetrap? - Then who did it?
- I did! Captain Lammers!
Nice read, Velma.
"Keep your 401 K in company stock," they said.
"The price can only go up," they said!
- Well, guess what! - Um, it didn't?
Who the hell wants a two-day blimp ride to London?
- Which is our only route! - Okay, so it's a niche market, but...
Blowing it up will send the stock price down to zero.
Yeah, that's why I shorted it!
- But what about all the other employees? - Um...
- See? It's that kinda selfish shit... - Lana, no! You'll kill us all!
For the last time, you idiot! It's not hydrogen...
it's helium!
And what about that are you still not getting, exactly?
Well, obviously the core concept, Lana!
Sorry, I didn't go to Space Camp.
How about bomb defusal camp?
No, actually lacrosse camp. If that helps.
I mean, a lot of those skills are universal.
- Shut up. Agent Gillette, please. - Oh, great.
Come on people, talk to me!
What are we thinking? What are we doing?
- What are we wearing? - My crisis vest. Mr. Fatface.
- Lana? Hey, girl, are you there? - Yeah, I'm... Hey, can you see me?
- I see your knockoff Fiacci drawers. - Ha-ha. You are such a bitch.
- Hey, Ray. - Ugh.
- Let's see that ignition, girl. You got it?
East German crap, probably a GK-31 or 32.
So on the side of the timer, there should be a serial number.
That'll tell me which wire y'all need to cut.
Got it? - Yeah, I see it! Ready?
- Since first call. - Nine, three, four...
...T, X, S. - T-X-X? Two X's?
X- S! Like INXS!
N-X-X? Jesus, use the NATO phonetic alphabet!
- The what? Duh. Christ on sale, is it S?
Sierra! Ray...
it's niner three four, Tango, X-ray, Sierra!
Thank you, doll! Now there should be a dash, followed by two letters.
- Okay. - Okay, so now I want you to cut...
the blue and white wire.
- Which one? There's two of those. - No...
One's blue with a white stripe...
... and the other's white with a blue stripe.
- Yeah, and both are identical! - No! They're not!
Ray? Hon? They're really similar.
One's a teeny bit... Blue, honey.
- Which one? - I guess that one, maybe?
- So wait, which one do I cut? - The teeny bit... Blue one!
Okay! - O-K?
- Wait! Stop! - What?
You said the letters after the dash were Oscar Kilo!
- Who? - What?
- O-K! Oscar Kilo! - No, "Okay!" Like:
"Okay, now I'm gonna tell you what they are!"
- Then you didn't! - I thought we skipped that part!
- Skipped a step in disarming a bomb? - Which I thought...
was pretty irresponsible on your part.
- Why do you always do this? - Why do you always not shut up?
- Stop. - On the radio...
when we answer in the affirmative...
we say, "Roger."
- Roger. Sorry. Ray. - Now. In the serial number...
what are the two letters following the dash?
- You ready? God damn it, Archer!
- First letter is B. - Bravo.
Thanks, second letter is N.
M as in Mike, or N as...
- As in Nancy! God, you of all people. - What?
Archer! - Me of all people?
- Nothing. - Ray, hon.
- Okay. - Oh, so you can say okay?
- Oh, my God. - Ray, can I shoot him?
In about five seconds, honey.
Lana, be careful! Jesus, the helium!
Right after he cuts the solid green wire.
- The green color is solid, or? Roger.
Oh. Roger. Cutting the green wire.
Archer! - Jesus, God! What?
That's how annoying you are.
- Your mom's annoying! How about that? - Let's go there.
Let's go here! Where Archer...
shut up and cut the goddamn wire already!
You shut up and I'm doing it! God!
- Oh, my... Ray! What's going on?
- The timer sped up! - Did you cut the green one?
- Yes! Roger! Steven! Whoever! - Ray!
- What were the last two letters? B.
- As in butt hole. - What do we do here?
And M! As in Mancy!
What?
- M as in what? - Mancy! What'd you think I said?
- Nancy! You idiot! Oh, yeah!
I can see how... Then I was like "You of all..."
- Exact! Same! Spot! - Ray?
Ray? Tell me what to do!
So do you all have parachutes?
No! - That would be, you know, problem solved.
- Ray! - I don't know.
Push it off with your big-ass hands.
Good luck, honey. - It's too heavy!
- Archer? - Aah! Aah! Aah!
- I can not do this alone! - You're not alone!
Baby! You came back to me!
Well, I really... Lana, there's a lot you and I need to talk about.
And let's do that. Right after we shove...
this huge bomb off the blimp! - Okay, but then we seriously need to...
- Cyril! - Sorry, here we go.
Lana! We're not gonna make it! - Yes, we are, Cyril!
We are gonna make it.
- Ha. Oh, my God! Lana, we made it! - Oh.
Hooray for metaphors.
I told you. Ha-ha.
Okay, now then.
- What did you want to talk about? - Um...
Well, uh, a lot of stuff, really.
Starting with the fact we just bombed Ireland.
Um... Pretty sure that's Wales.
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