Carter and the little tag-along on his chin luxuriate in First Class. The flight attendant passes out hot towels. Someday.... Anyway, the dude next to Carter completely ignores Carter's leave-me-alone body language and asks Carter whether he's from Atlanta or Chicago. Carter says, "Chicago." Seatmate asks whether he was in Atlanta on business, and Carter curtly says, "No." "Vacation?" Seatmate persists, and Carter -- now leaning back and closing his eyes in a manner that certainly suggests, to me at least, that he's not in a chattin' mood -- says he was just visiting a friend. Seatmate asks the now practically sleeping Carter what he does for a living. Carter lies that he's a high-school English teacher. Seatmate marvels, "Wow, and you fly First Class, huh? They must pay teachers pretty well in Chicago!" Carter unbuckles his seatbelt and, with a wry smile, breathes, "Excuse me," and heads for the bathroom.
In the bathroom, Carter runs the water in the sink and stares at himself. After a moment, he unzips a bag.
Lisa walks briskly through the halls and is pulled up short by the sight of B.B. sitting next to Mrs. B.B.'s stretcher, out in the hallway. B.B. sadly explains, "They needed the room." Lisa offers the probably disingenuous consolation, "We'll find her another room." Right. Because in an emergency-room setting, your priority is to make sure that deceased patients are conveniently housed. B.B. asks, "Are they coming to get her?" Fifty-Five's stretcher comes flying out of the trauma room; Finch does compressions on his chest. Malik tells Weaver that there's an assaulted cheerleader coming in; she suffered a bat to the face. Awesome! Oh -- ouch! Weaver makes sure the patient gets into the elevator. Lisa asks Weaver whether she's finished with the trauma room. Weaver says she's glad she found Lisa. Lisa starts explaining about B.B. and his wife, but Weaver doesn't have time to sugar-coat it, and runs right over her: "Look, I checked with the medical-school registrar, and they've retracted your clerkship." "What?!" Lisa squeals. Dr. Dave comes between them with a cheerleader laid out on a stretcher. Weaver yells, "Is that from the football game, too?" Lisa is less interested in the physical trauma than she might be under other circumstances, and Weaver continues, "Something about a delinquent tuition notice." Lisa apologizes and says that her ex-husband was supposed to pay it, and that she'll take care of it tomorrow. Yes, and when you do, be aggressive! B-E aggressive! Weaver gently says, "Abby, you don't understand; you need to go home. You're not covered to work on patients...Once a clerkship is pulled, it's pulled! Nothing I can do. You have to wait until the next academic quarter." "In -- in three months?" Lisa asks. The next trauma comes in and Weaver tells Lisa to turn in her lab coat and ID to Frank. Lisa storms down the hall, tearing off her lab coat and slamming her stuff down in front of Frank. She runs into Luka in the hall (literally -- ooh, that's rough. Not rough enough! I -- well, I've said too much already) and apologizes. He asks her what's wrong, but she stomps into the ambulance bay without answering him -- nor tearing off her shirt and pants along with her lab coat.