Not true

I recently had the pleasure of attending an intimate dinner party with one of the greatest actors of our generation: Mr. Tom Hanks.

The following is my account of the evening-

Location: Ranch-style home nestled within a small valley on a sprawling estate not too far from Ithaca, NY. Breathtaking.
Host: Arrived twenty-minutes late reeking of gin and with an armful of loose prescription pills.
Other Guests: Odd collection of east coast elite, personal family friends, and Hollow Earth theory adherents.
Home: Well maintained pre-war home with a modernized kitchen. The house tour was unfortunately cut short when host was required to "take care" of unexplained groans emanating from crawlspace.
Decor: A surprising number of antique wood-rimmed bicycles mounted on the walls. Eight by my count.
Hors d'oeurves: So-called "caviar" tasted suspiciously like flour-thickened dish water.
Salad: Contained an alarming number of bones.
Entree: A delicate chicken marsala served atop a bed of garlic and rosemary mashed potatoes. Truly first-rate.
Dessert: One exceptionally large candied apple that was shared communally.
Cocktails: When asked for a virgin margarita, host cracked one guest over the head with a pistol.
After Dinner Activities: An obviously drunk Hanks loudly challenging guests to Indian Leg wrestle.
Party Favors: Sweet, if not a bit unsettling, personalized shadow-box frame filled with guest's trash from previous week.
Conversation: Stimulating.