Harry Washello: I was just wondering if you know if anyone here had a son named Chip.
Stewardess: I had an uncle named Chett.
Harry Washello: I know how this sounds, but I answered the phone out there and the guy on the other end he was very, very frantic. He thought I was his dad fro a minute, I think he just had the wrong area code.
Fred the Cook: Yeah, so what?
Harry Washello: So he was calling from a missile silo! He said that they were locked in, 50 minutes and counting, to shoot off their nuclear wad. We would be getting it back in an hour and 10. I mean he meant that we're at war! Nuclear war.
Mike: Where do you go so the radiation won't get us?
Waitress: What about Mexico? Or Hawaii! Let's go to Hawaii.
Landa: No tropics.
Mike: Ocean clouds, rain, forget it. Got to be a desert, right? Like the Sahara or the Gobi, fuck the Gobi.
Landa: We're going to Antarctica if it's true.
Mike: Wait a minute, you said desert.
Landa: There's a valley there with zero rainfall, plenty of fresh water in the snow for generations if need be.