We’d like to thank Margaret for this story:
In the winter of ’86-’87, I was an anesthesiologist in New York City and grossly pregnant with my first child. One dark and stormy night I went to dinner with a friend at Paola’s on the Upper East Side. At first, I did not notice the man in the shadows wearing a Grateful Dead T-shirt and staring intently in our direction. As we devoured our appetizers, the stranger paid his bill, got up, and approached our table.
“You have the most incredible round face, and the most incredible round belly to go with it,” said Bill Murray. I struggled to summon my best OR cool and invite him to join us, but Murray was already sitting down. “So, what happened to you?” he asked with a nod at my belly. “It’s all your doing”, I blurted out. “Tell me more”, murmured Murray, leaning closer to prop his elbows on the table.
Losing all pretense of calm, I told the truth. “I used to date this guy who didn’t think Where the Buffalo Roam was funny. Obviously, the relationship was doomed. After we broke up I met my husband.”
“That’s all very well, but what does your husband think of Where the Buffalo Roam?”
“He thinks it’s hilarious.”
“Ah!” sighed Murray, “It’s true love then.”
“Yes”, I replied.
“Anything to be of help.”
Before departing our company as abruptly as he had joined it, Murray added, “Too bad no one will ever believe we had this conversation.” Five nights later, I walked into another restaurant in another snowstorm in Stowe, Vermont. The first thing I noticed was the man waiting for a table in the lobby. I walked over and said, “Do you ever have the feeling you are being followed?”
“Yes, I do,” replied Bill Murray. “Too bad no one will ever believe we had this conversation.”