In the spirit of "bluff the listener" games, which story do you think is true (except for obvious name changes)?
Story #1:
While I was visiting a university in Australia, I ran into a mathematician I knew, who offered to take me on a hike in the countryside. Eager to get outside the city, I agreed. After the hike, he took me to his girlfriend's house, where she was preparing a barbecue for her adult children and children-in-law. The girlfriend wasn't expecting me, but she graciously welcomed me in, and treated me kindly.
Eventually, I picked up a vibe that led me to wonder whether the girlfriend was concerned that my colleague was going to leave her for me. She was considerably older than my colleague, while I was younger than him. Though she never said anything explicit about it, she seemed rather wistful. I never found a good way to let her know that she had nothing to worry about.
When I mentioned that I was having a lot of trouble getting over the jetlag from my flight from North America, she insisted on giving me a few of what she said were prescription sleeping pills. I tried to refuse, but she insisted that I take them.
That night, back at my lodging, I wondered to what lengths someone would go, to hold onto her lover. The girlfriend had been very nice to me, but she very much loved my colleague. My paranoia undoubtedly came from accumulated sleep deprivation, but in an overabundance of caution I flushed the sleeping pills down the toilet.
Story #2:
I was invited to give a talk at an American university. My host was someone I didn't know, whom I'll call Dr. Clueless. The night before my talk, Clueless kindly drove me to his home so his wife could give me a homecooked dinner. On the drive there, I asked if his wife knew I was coming to dinner. He said no, but assured me that she wouldn't mind.
In fact, she did mind. Their teenage daughter was going through a typical teenage crisis. The daughter was mortified that a stranger was there to see her in tears.
Clueless offered to make me a screwdriver. I told him I rarely drank alcohol, but I could try it, if he used only a trace of vodka. He promised me he would. From the fact that I could taste the alcohol in the orange juice (which he had assured me wouldn't happen), and the size of my hangover the next day, I wondered whether he had switched our drinks.
Clueless's wife, exasperated with her husband and with his expectation that she would play the docile happy housewife, bundled the daughter into her car, so they could discuss the daughter's troubles in private. (I would have offered to leave, but I didn't realize they were going until after they'd left.)
Left to fend for ourselves, Clueless eventually managed to scrounge up some grub for us, and then drove me to the dorm I was put up in. My talk the next day was probably not improved by the hangover, but I mercifully have no memory of it.
Story #3:
The chair of the math department at Lobster Quadrille University contacted me to ask if I'd like a job there. He said it would be a full professor position, which seemed premature to me since I had only recently been promoted to associate professor. I pointed out that I had never paid a professional visit there, and didn't know the university or the town, so he invited me out there.
During my visit, one of the faculty, Professor Also Clueless (no relation), kindly took me for a drive to show me around. Afterwards, we stopped at his house and waited in the kitchen for his wife to arrive. It turned out that he expected her to make us lunch.
When Also's wife returned home, she was surprised and angry with Also's thoughtlessness. She was in the midst of a busy day, that among other things included numerous and complex demands of a full-time job with significant responsibilities, and the care of their young child.
It was one of the nicest, best equipped kitchens I'd every seen. Copper pots and pans hung from above. Also's wife stood next to a very impressive array of butcher knives. I was seated in a direct line between the two of them. As Also's wife's voice grew angrier, I thought about those knives. I wasn't worried that she would aim them at me; she didn't view me as the one to blame. I was afraid that she'd start hurling knives at her husband, and I'd be caught in the line of fire. As they argued, I tried to silence my growling stomach so I could quietly and unobtrusively slip out of the kitchen and into the safety of the living room.
If I recall correctly, Also and I drove around for awhile until we eventually found a store where I could grab a sandwich for a very late lunch.
As for Lobster Quadrille University, after considerable delay I received a rather cold rejection letter from the department chair. It felt odd to get a rejection letter for a job to which I hadn't actually applied.
Which story really happened? All of them.