Barney: Okay, new topic. I just got a $200 speeding ticket today.
Marshall: Oh, that sucks, dude. You couldn't talk your way out of it?
Barney: You can't talk your way out of a ticket.
Marshall: I've done it. It was... what was it? It was 1998.
[flashback to a police officer writing Marshall a ticket in Minnesota in 1998:]
Police Officer: So where's the fire?
Marshall: There's no fire. Actually, you know, there is a fire at this barbecue I'm headed to. Nothing special.
Burgers, ribs... brats.
Police Officer: Son, do you have any idea how dangerous it is to be... Did you say brats?
Marshall: Yeah, brats. My mom marinates them in Belgian beer for two days. No big. Funny thing was, I could've sworn that one of those thick, succulent, hickory-smoked brats had some writing on it. Weird. Anyways, what were you saying?
Police Officer: Well, what did it say? The brat?
Marshall: It said "Property of Minnesota State Trooper Jorgensen." You a brat man, Officer Jorgensen?
Police Officer: You going to this address?
Marshall: Uh-huh.
Police Officer: Follow me and lean on the horn. We're gonna be running some reds.
[present:]
Barney: Well, duh. I would've done that, too, if I'd have been going to a barbecue. Damn, I was.