When I was a little kid, my family took a vacation to LA. We hit all the tourist traps. We did tours of the stars home, and checked out the walk of fame. My dad took us to dinner at a now defunct restaurant named "Chasen's". It used to be a spot where you could count on seeing stars. Through most of our meal, we were disappointed with the celebrity offerings, until, as our main course was winding down, our luck changed.
The doors open and an entourage approaches... very slowly. We realize as it nears that it's none other than George Burns. Wow. He's got an 18 year old vixen on each arm and a small army of handlers. I have no idea who he is, but I can see that everyone around me is thrilled. As he walks past our booth, he pauses, and looks me in the eye. His group stops, and the place momentarily quiets. He gets a serious look about his face, and asks me:
"How old are you?"
"I'm 8!" I reply.
"Married?"
The question hangs in the air, and I have no idea what to do with it, but the place erupts, and he turns confidently back to his business of getting to his table in no apparent hurry.
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