We’d like to thank Mike Rundle for sharing this story.
Almost 10 years ago while staying at an Embassy Suites north of Chicago for a one-night stay, our kids wanted to use the fitness room. A short time later they came back excitedly saying that Bill Murray was in there. At first we didn’t believe them, but they kept insisting so I told them to go back and just be yourselves; not staring, etc.
After about 15 to 20 minutes they came back and told us they were able to talk with him and he was really nice. He told them they could approach/talk with him, but asked that they leave his son, who was there also, alone. Continue reading
We’d like to thank Catherine Belmont for the following story.
Climbing the spiral staircase to our morning class was an effort on a very cold grey day. Students hurrying up the five flights of stairs rushing in just before Madame started class. It was a grammar class, we were asked to speak only in French. The room over looked the Eiffel Tower in the distance. The class was for students attending the Sorbonne who were just beginning to learn French. We all struggled to learn as quickly as possible. Living in Paris was a once in a lifetime experience.
As class ended I noticed a new face in the crowd of students, how odd to see Bill Murray. I went to my next class across the Seine. It was a Phonenique class. Bill walked in and sat down next to me. He wore Converse tennis shoes and pulled out a Mont Blanc pen to take notes. The professor called him William. I smiled and introduced myself. He said he had finished a film and wanted to take a few classes. I had just put my career in publishing on hold and decided to attend the Sorbonne and live in Paris for a year. Continue reading
The following story was shared by navkat.
I saw the script for a new GB movie once – I was having drinks and wings at Down The Hatch on W. 4th in the West Village in NY.
Bill Murray came in and ordered a basket of Suicidal wings and a scotch, neat. He was carrying a manuscript under his arm, which he laid on the seat next to him. I wanted to say hello but I didn’t want to seem starstruck so I just smiled and waved my drink at him.
As the night progressed, he ordered more drinks and more wings. At some point, as is usually the case at DTH, with his hands covered in wing sauce, Bill Murray ran out of napkins. After a couple of halfhearted attempts at getting the bartender’s attention, Mr. Murray began tearing pages off the top of the manuscript next to him and using them to wipe his hands. Odd, but not altogether crazy. Continue reading
The following story was shared by Linda Epstein.
Piermont, NY – Courtesy of juliarowe on Flickr.
I was driving around Nyack, New York one sunny afternoon with a very opinionated friend. We were chatting about Saturday Night Live because my dad had been the manager of guest relations at NBC and I was lucky enough to see many performances during the first several years of the show.
My friend vehemently announced “I HATE Bill Murray.” I said “What? How can you possibly ‘hate’ him? You don’t know him; he’s not controversial, he’s not offensive in any way. I don’t get it.”
This began a lively ‘disagreement’, which lasted at least ten annoying minutes, as we continued driving along the Hudson River in Piermont. I was aiming towards a winding road past Tallman Mountain Park that would lead us down toward the river. We changed subjects and slowly fell into silence, enjoying the ride.
The road I was on tapered completely until it became a one-lane gravel mess with a convertible approaching us at a very slow speed. As in a game of ‘chicken’, one of us had to stop completely in order to allow the other to come through. I stopped. The car came toward us. Blind as I am, it took a few moments for my friend and I to focus and then realize the driver of the oncoming car was Bill Murray.