Lloyd: What the hell are we doing here, Harry? We gotta get out of this town! Harry: Oh yeah, and go where? Where are we gonna go? Lloyd: I'll tell you where. Someplace warm. A place where the beer flows like wine. Where beautiful women instinctively flock like the salmon of Capistrano. I'm talking about a little place called Aspen. Harry: Oh, I don't know, Lloyd. The French are assholes.