Whitney Pastorek
November 15, 2008 AT 12:42 AM EST

Hey, binder clips! Did you know that in Morocco it is common to exchange a small gift when meeting somebody for the first time? Or that in Japan you must always commit suicide to avoid embarrassment? Michael Scott does. That’s why Dave Wallace picked him to go to Winnipeg, Can-aah-da, in the dead of winter to make an international sale, sending him off with $50 for sweaters and a business class ticket on Butte Air (do I smell a fart joke?), where, sadly, they do not serve meals on flights under two hours.

I say “sadly” because the dream of a fillet with mushroom sauce was the only thing keeping poor Michael going, knowing as he did that the real reason Dave sent him on the trip was to take his mind off the loss of his darling Holly. And while fillets with mushroom sauce are often very soothing in the face of lost love — as are pancakes — last night was not the night when our dear leader’s heart would be mended. Tragic all around it was, from his near molestation, courtesy of Dwight and a poorly-positioned money belt, to the whack he got from the beverage cart as he experimented with the complimentary in-flight blindfold. Maybe it’s just as well they’re not trying the long-distance thing. Michael Scott don’t travel so well. (Meredith, on the other hand, I’d go anywhere with. Not only does that lady know her way around a van, she looks smashing in a burka. Hellooo!)

Given that this is the season of romance on The Office, Michael wasn’t the only one dealing in matters of the heart: We also got to see Ryan and Kelly fall awkwardly back into each other’s arms, a story line that was shocking only for the revelation that B.J. Novak — who is apparently not long for the Dunder Mifflin world — can do a one-handed push-up. Despite Kelly’s claim that “that door is closed,” these two nutcakes are made for each other; when Ryan found himself relocated to the annex in the face of Pam’s imminent return (more on that later), he and the Dusky One played several swift games of tonsil hockey before sealing the deal with a breakup text to a by-no-means-heartbroken Darryl. Not sure what reaction Ryan was hoping for from Darryl, but “cool” wasn’t it, and now there is terror in Ryan’s big coke-addict eyes. Ah well. This fairy tale is buyer beware, kid. (Note: If this turn of events means that we get even less Craig Robinson from here on out, I will not be happy.)

NEXT: A Jam reunion

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