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I was in England, staying with a married couple — friends of mine. He was a huge bridge-playing enthusiast. He belonged to a bridge club in Manchester even though they lived in a small town a bus-ride away. While I was there, the bridge club held a huge bridge tournament and movie actor Omar Sharif was the guest. I don’t know if you know anything about him, but he was a bridge-playing fanatic. Even had a newspaper column about playing bridge, I think. Anyway, Omar Sharif was the star attraction for the tournament. Because the husband of the couple (my friends) was a member of the club, he helped with the tournament. His wife (who was my “real” friend, we met during college days) and I were assigned the task of dealing out card hands that would be used for play during the entire tournament.  Deal four hands, just like we would if we were playing the game right then.  We had dozens and dozens and DOZENS of decks of cards. She and I sat at a table, dealing out four hands and then recording the cards for each hand. Then we’d rubber band each hand, then rubber band all four together to make one “game”.  We did this for hours, but dealing the cards was necessary because (don’t know if you recall) there’d been that previous scandal where those two guys cheated and won gobs of money during similar bridge tournaments.  Anyway, we recorded all these hands of cards. Then Omar arrived for the tournament. I went up to him to ask for his autograph but was turned away because this was during the time when there was a lot of Middle East tension and package bombs etc were being delivered to Egyptians and Muslims and so on.  After the tournament, there was a large dinner for the bridge club members who’d helped put the thing together. My friend’s husband, my friend and I got to go to the dinner. Omar was guest of honor, of course. So that’s how I got to have dinner with Omar Sharif…along with ninety-nine others. But it sounds romantic if you don’t mention the other ninety-nine people!