Jerry gets a decent cup of coffee with his friends at a good old-fashioned New York diner, complaining all the while to George about what a pain it is to walk behind tourists. George is sympathetic: “We should build another sidewalk, a side-sidewalk, so the tourists can go off to the side when they wanna look at all the tall buildings!” After reading a rudimentary topology textbook, Kramer is sincerely unable to tell the difference between Jerry’s coffee mug and his bagel. Elaine only arrives at the diner after everyone else has left, because some selfish mook kept holding the doors open until the train was finally rendered out of service, inconveniencing literally thousands of people.
Hours later, long after he’s done shooting for the day, Jerry Seinfeld sits alone in his scorching-hot car, sighing, stuck in endless Los Angeles traffic. “All I wanted was a decent slice in this god-forsaken town,” he mumbles disappointedly.