You take a final bite of your food, finish off your drink, then take a look around. Nobody seems to be paying any attention, so you suppose this must be the right time. You stand up casually enough, then make a mad dash for the door. From behind you, the little old woman who must be "Mom" shouts, "Get 'em, boys!" You see a group of large bearded men wearing leather rouse as you bust out through the door. You run as fast as you can without any other form of transport to help you escape. The men take their time. They get on their motorcycles and come after you as a single cohesive group. Then, still as a group, they chase you down an surround you.
"Hey," calls out the on who you assume must be the leader, "we have a group fund for people who can't afford their meals; come on back and have some pie."
While you would love to have some pie, you're feeling pretty bad about casting this biker group into a sterotypically violent mold. Before your dream self can answer, you awake feeling just slightly disgusted with yourself.