Norm: [enters] Afternoon, everybody.
All: Norm! Norm!
Woody: What's the story, Mr. Peterson?
Norm: "Bobbsey Twins Go to the Brewery." Let's just cut to the happy ending.

Frasier: Carla, now you're being silly. Listen, statistics prove that this is...
Carla: The hell with statistics. Does the words "ice on the wings" mean anything to you?
Frasier: Oh, that is simply the sun glinting off the wings. Does that look like ice to you? [the plane shakes]
All: Meow, meow, meow. Meow, meow, meow. Meow, meow, meow, meow, meow.
Frasier: Will you stop that incessant caterwauling?
All: Meow, meow, meow.
Frasier: Why aren't they serving drinks?
Carla: Hey, Fras, you okay?
Frasier: I'm fine. Fine.
Carla: You look a little green.
Frasier: I'm perfectly all right. Where is that damn cocktail cart? What was that?
Carla: What?
Frasier: That pinging noise. I heard it. I heard a ping, a ping, ping. What, have you all gone deaf or something?
Carla: Hey, hey, ease up.
Frasier: Do you feel cold air rushing in here?
Carla: No.
Frasier: My God! There's a leak in the fuselage!
Carla: Calm down, Frasier.
Frasier: Oh, God, look! It's the wings! They're flapping around like a wounded duck! We're all gonna die!
Carla: Frasier! You're not in your happy place.
Frasier: What do you mean? In a grave? We're going down! We're going down! I got to get out of here! Mommy! Mommy!
Carla: Frasier!

Carla: All right, all right. Can it, you clowns. You know, a lot of people criticize hockey players. They say they're wasting their time. After their careers are over they're not prepared for anything. Well, my Eddie just proved them wrong.
Eddie LeBec: Thank you, Carla.
Carla: You walked around in public in that thing?
Eddie LeBec: I thought you'd get a kick out of it. Listen, uh, Carla, I got to fly to Seattle tomorrow.
Woody: You can't fly in that thing, can you?
Eddie LeBec: No, Woody, I'm going on an airplane.
Woody: I know, I mean you're not going to fly in that thing, are you?

Rebecca: He wants me to have dinner with him. That means he expects something for a good review.
Sam: I'll get the petty cash.
Rebecca: Sam. He wants me to compromise myself.
Sam: Honey, we all do.
Rebecca: Why do I even talk to you? I'm not going to make a big deal of this. It's just going to be another business dinner. That's all. Everything will be fine.
Sam: Listen to me. Listen. If, uh, one thing should lead to another tonight and you wake up in the morning and find out you done something you wish you hadn't, I just want you to know, I'd love to take you out tomorrow night.

Rebecca: Listen up, everyone. One of the most influential reviewers in the city has been going around to different bars in the area reviewing them. Need I say more?
Woody: Yes.
Rebecca: Woody, in case he comes in here, I want everybody on his best behavior.
Sam: Aw, gee, does this mean we're going to have to cancel the midget tossing contest?
Rebecca: Sam, please don't joke about this. This really means a lot to me.
Sam: Oh, don't worry about it. I'm sure we'll do great. As long as the reviewer doesn't happen to be that SOB Murray Treadwell. You remember him?
Rebecca: Well, I'm not saying it is, but what if it were?
Sam: Well, then you better kiss your butt good-bye. Actually, that sounds more like a job for me, doesn't it?
Rebecca: What's the matter with him?
Sam: He's a hater. The guy hates everybody. I hate people like that.

Woody: Oh, Carla, Eddie called and said he got a job as a penguin.
Carla: Great! Hey, did you hear that, everybody? My husband just hooked on with the Pittsburgh Penguins.
Norm: Hey, that's great. Pittsburgh, they're an up-and-coming club, huh?
Cliff: I'd say Eddie LeBec is on his way to becoming a legend.
Carla: Gee, Cliff, what a great thing to say, thanks.
Cliff: I meant every word of it, Carla. [clears throat] Can Eddie get us tickets?

Carla: Seattle? I just- I can't believe you're going to be that far away.
Eddie LeBec: You know, it won't be that long. Look, I'll call you every day. Hey, maybe you want to come out and see me, huh?
Carla: Yeah. Yeah, well you know, it's really a long way, Eddie. We'll talk about it tonight, okay? What do you want for dinner?
Eddie LeBec: I don't know. I kind of got the urge for mackerel.

Eddie LeBec: Gee, I'm sure going to miss you, Carla.
Carla: Well, who wouldn't? You know, not to be overly sentimental, but you're the best husband I ever had.
Eddie LeBec: I'll see you, Carla.
Carla: Yeah, see ya, Penguin.
Woody: I wonder where couples get those cute little names they call each other.

Norm: Hey, hey, hey. That restaurant critic guy's here.
Rebecca: Where?
Norm: Right over there, see?
Rebecca: Oh, my God. How do I look, Sam?
Sam: You've got a little drool on the corner of your mouth there. No, no, no, leave it.
Rebecca: I think I better go see what he wants.
Sam: No, relax. Carla's got it.
Rebecca: Oh, my God!
[As Carla makes her way to Treadwell's table, Rebecca hops over the bar and slides onto the chair next to him]
Rebecca: Carla, you don't mind, do you?
Carla: Not at all. When you're through, there's a table of six in the corner.

Rebecca: Hello. You're Murray Treadwell, aren't you?
Murray Treadwell: Yes, and you must be one of the Flying Wallendas.
Rebecca: No, I'm Rebecca Howe. I'm the new manager here. I hope you enjoy your visit here.
Murray Treadwell: Oh, I'm sure I will.
Rebecca: Would you like a drink?
Murray Treadwell: That seems vaguely appropriate.
Rebecca: I'll get it. You probably want something specific.
Murray Treadwell: How about a vodka martini?
Rebecca: Excellent choice. Anything special? Stirred, shaken, two olives? A little sword?
Murray Treadwell: I'd like it today.
Rebecca: Coming right up.