I’d take I-3, back to the door and closest.
The bad guys would never suspect I am an Operator.
Of course, everyone assumes the bad guys will waltz in the front door, like in the movies. But that’s they want you to think. The threat could actually be the Arabs at table A, or the disgruntled busboy in the kitchen, or the stressed Teriyaki chef slicing shrimp at table C, or the flirty waitress who crawled under your table to “clean up the spilled drink,” or the stripper who jumped out of the oversized birthday cake (was it really your birthday?), or a Sherpa climbing down the wall. Or maybe the Spanish Inquisition jumping out of the restrooms. No one would expect that.
or you have a death wish