The Diplomats Club

How about the scam the airlines have with these special clubs? One hundred fifty dollars a year to sit in a room...eat peanuts, drink coffee and soda and read magazines.

I already got four hours of this coming to me. What am I paying for? How about an l-got-all-my-luggage club? Can I get into that? Where's that club? I would like to join that club.

They give you that look like: 'Maybe if you had worked a little harder....'

I'll be the one without the big red sash.

I've done the march in. Best feeling. -How about the march out? -Not as good. You realize all the money you're losing.

It better be.

I just amended my will to include you as a beneficiary.

We don't want anything to happen to you, Mr. Pitt. We want you to live a long, long time.

Anyone ever tell you you look a lot like Sugar Ray Leonard?

I suppose we all look alike to you, right, Costanza?

Come on. A little help.

I would've marched on Selma if it was in Long Island. -You'd have marched on Great Neck? -Absolutely. I still might.

I always hated those girls. They would never date me.

Not salt, but...? -What, Pepper Johnson?

Outside of us, you don't have any white friends either.

Remember I was here a while back? We watched Breakfast at Tiffany's together?

Well, I got another Audrey Hepburn movie.

Daddy, that man's here again.

Yeah, they're great. What about appetite suppressants?

Yes, I followed the planes.

Just so you know, they also have decaf as well. And I talked to the hostess, they'll also be serving coffee on the plane...along with a selection of cocktails and soft--

Well, he gave me the morning off. I was doing a little shopping.

Even if you have to go a little, you better go now...because you can't until after takeoff.

Planes flying in from all corners of the world...and they know the minute when they're arriving. Oh, they don't know a darn thing.

You're on, cowboy.

I'm George, George Costanza. You live around here?

Come on, Mexico City! -Seattle! Seattle!

I just didn't want you to freak out. Why would I freak out? Pilot.

[Jerry freezes mid-sentence during his performance]

I became obsessed with him. Why did I invite him? Stupid. Stupid.

Well, Mr. Kramer, looks like you're in the hole $3200.

Oh, no, no, no, no. Not the bag. Help me, man. I'm desperate.

I'm sorry, but the pilot has asked that you leave this plane. Apparently he has some sort of problem with you.

I really let him have it, Jerry. He had no business being in your audience if you didn't want him there. I didn't care.

I don't have a preference, okay? Just make a decision yourself. Please? Stop bothering me with every minor detail.

Hey, Jerry, what was the name of that exterminator...who fumigated your apartment when you had fleas? Karl, I think. Karl. Yeah, yeah. He was a nice guy.

David Berkowitz. Son of Sam. The worst mass murderer the post office ever produced.

I took over his route. And, boy, were there a lot of dogs on that route.

Any of them talking to you? -Just to tell me to keep off the snacks.

No road is a major detail.

Jerry? Yes, I suppose he is white. I never really thought about it. I don't really see people in terms of color.

[News report about Jerry driving into swimming pool while 'a little freaked out']

That's him. That's the man who gave me the pills in the drugstore. He's no pharmacist.

That's what we used to call him in high school, 'The Exterminator.' He was a linebacker.

Your friend caused the delay? -You're a cheat. -Nobody hustles Earl Haffler.

Jerry Seinfeld tried to poison you? What? What? Mr. Pitt, what are you, delirious?

Oh, my God. It's him. It's the pilot!

You wouldn't believe the rat droppings in the kitchen.

Hear that? Hear that? Mr. Morgan! Did you hear that? Mr. Morgan!