Julianne Moore Eats Cake, Too!

I thought you looked more like a woman we know who waits on us at our favorite breakfast place in Berkeley."

My mother and father came up from Florida to meet my husband, Don, and me in New York City. Our trip from California was uneventful, and the hotel was cramped and small. We had an agenda full of places where we wanted to eat and things we wanted to do.

Don had gone out at 1:00 that morning to eat and listen to jazz at the Village Vanguard. The city was popping with soccer fans who were celebrating Brazil's victory that day in the World Cup.

So what to do with parents in New York? We decided to take in a Broadway show. We got in line in Times Square and scored some half-price matinée tickets for that afternoon. The show was a bust, and we came out early and hungry for a cup of coffee or a piece of cake.

We found a coffee shop near the theater, and gave our order at the counter. We spotted a place to sit and were having a typical debriefing about the play we had just seen when this gorgeous redhead walked in dressed in a T-shirt and overalls, with her boyfriend in tow. They sat at the next table and ordered something, all the while nuzzling each other.

Don leans over and says, "That's Julianne Moore!" We had just seen her in Robert Altman's movie _Short Cuts._ "No way", I say. "If anything, she looks more like the woman who waits tables at our favorite breakfast place in Berkeley."

Don insists it is Julianne Moore, and so to put this argument to rest I bet him $5 that he is wrong. So I get up and sashay over to their table and say, "Excuse me for interrupting, but my husband, Don, over there thinks you are Julianne Moore, recently in the movie _Short Cuts._ I thought you looked more like a woman we know who waits on us at our favorite breakfast place in Berkeley. You are probably neither, but we have a $5 bet, and I need to clear this up."

Well, she gets up slowly and leans in and gives me a full body hug and says, "Sweetie, you owe your husband $5. I am Julianne Moore, and this is my boyfriend, Bart. We are taking a break from rehearsals of the play _Vanya on 42nd Street,_ just around the corner."

I apologize profusely for intruding on them, and Bart says, "She could very well be your waitress from Berkeley, the way she travels around!" And he gives me a hug, too. So I go back to the table and try to talk Don out of his $5, as my parents are laughing their heads off. Only in New York City could this happen! And before Rudy Giuliani, too.

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