Frasier: So I decided it was time I got to know some of my colleagues in the media.
Niles: But a convention? You've never shown any interest before.
Frasier: They've never held one in Aspen before.
Niles: Just think: hundreds of radio psychiatrists all in the same location. One well-timed avalanche and the dignity of the entire psychiatric profession could be restored.

Frasier: Very well. You leave me no alternative but to call in my marker.
Niles: What marker?
Frasier: Oh, I think you know.
Niles: You wouldn't.
Frasier: I would.
Niles: You can't!
Frasier: I will.
Niles: That was three years ago.
Frasier: I don't recall there being any statute of limitations. I distinctly recall that when you asked me to go out with Maris's sister, you said that you would owe me one forever.
Niles: But you only spent one evening with Brie. That hardly compares with what you're asking me to endure.
Frasier: Oh? Shall I refresh your memory? Midway through the opera her ermine muff began to tremble. As it turned out, she had used it to smuggle in her adorably incontinent Chihuahua. Just as I thought we'd reached the low point of the evening I suddenly felt a sandpaper tongue licking my earlobe. Alas, it did not belong to little Hervé! Fortunately my shriek coincided with the on-stage murder of Gondolfo.

Roz: I bet you're feeling pretty good about yourself?
Niles: Suddenly I'm being revered as a god by the same troglodytes who, in junior high school, tried to pack me into my own briefcase. It's glorious.
Roz: Oh, I almost forgot the best part. Reggie sent these tickets for tonight's game over.
Niles: Oh. Well, I suppose I can't disappoint my new fans. Tell me, does one still wear a white sweater jauntily tied around the neck to these things?
Roz: If one wants to get the crap beaten out of one.