Sanka Coffie: You mean winter, as in ICE?
Derice Bannock: Maybe.
Sanka Coffie: You mean winter, as in igloos and Eskimos and penguins and ICE?
Derice Bannock: Possibly.
Sanka Coffie: See ya.
Derice Bannock: Where you going?
Sanka Coffie: I'm going to take a hot bath, I'm getting cold just thinking about all this ICE.
British Official: We must also be concerned about the potential for embarrassment.
Irv: Oh, pardon me. I didn't realise that four black guys in a bobsled could make you blush.
Irv: Oh, yeah, just one little drawback to this delightful winter sport. The high-speed crash. Ooh! That hurt. Always remember, your bones will not break in a bobsled. No, no, no. They shatter.
Irv: Our Father, who art in Calgary, Bobsled be thy name. Thy kingdom come, gold medals won, on Earth as it is in Turn Seven. With Liberty and Justice for Jamaica and Haile Selassie. Amen.
Irv: Winning a bobsled race is about one thing: the push-start. Now I know you dainty, little track-stars think you're fast. Well, heh, let's see how fast you are when you push a six-hundred pound sled. Now a respectable start-time is five-point-seven seconds. If you speed demons can't whip off an even six flat, you have a better chance of becoming a barbershop quartet.
Irv: I told the owner of the bar that these guys were mentally disturbed, so he's not going to press any charges.
Sanka Coffie: Yeah! Sled god does it again.
Irv: Just shut up, Sanka.