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.