I was sitting in a small, soundproofed recording studio in Manhattan, wearing a pair of oversized headphones.

The podcast host, a bright guy who really knew his television history, had been guiding our conversation through all the usual beats.

We talked about the writing process, the incredibly long hours on the Fox lot, and the emotional weight of our series finale.

But then, out of nowhere, he leaned into his microphone and asked a completely unexpected question.

He wanted to know when the reality of our television show violently collided with the real world in the funniest way possible.

I had to stop and take a slow sip of water.

A massive smile crept across my face as the memories came flooding back.

I didn’t even have to think about it, because the answer always involved the late, great Larry Linville.

Anyone who actually knew Larry knew he was the absolute polar opposite of his character, Major Frank Burns.

Frank was a sniveling, selfish, incompetent weasel of a man.

Larry, on the other hand, was an incredibly articulate, generous, and gentle human being.

He was a classically trained actor who was quite literally the sweetest guy on our entire set.

But he played the villain so flawlessly that the American public completely blurred the lines between the actor and the character.

I told the podcast host about a sunny Tuesday afternoon in Los Angeles during our third season.

Larry had a rare afternoon off from filming and decided to run some simple household errands.

He just wanted to pick up some basic groceries for dinner at his local supermarket in the San Fernando Valley.

He grabbed a shopping cart and peacefully made his way to the produce section.

He was quietly inspecting the tomatoes when he noticed a tiny, sweet-looking older woman staring at him from across the aisle.

Larry, always the consummate gentleman, stood up straight and prepared to give her a warm smile.

He was fully expecting a pleasant fan interaction and perhaps a polite request for an autograph.

But the woman’s eyes suddenly narrowed into a fierce glare as she marched directly toward him.

And that is exactly when it happened.

The sweet little old lady did not ask for an autograph.

Instead, she raised her heavy leather handbag and brought it down squarely on Larry’s shoulder.

It was a solid, resounding thwack that echoed loudly through the entire produce department.

Larry staggered back, completely stunned, dropping a ripe tomato directly onto the linoleum floor.

Before he could even process what had just occurred, she started yelling at him at the top of her lungs.

She pointed a trembling, accusatory finger right in his face and scolded him for being so incredibly mean to Hawkeye and Trapper.

She called him a cheat, a liar, and a terrible military doctor.

She aggressively berated him for constantly cheating on his poor wife back home with Major Houlihan.

Larry, desperately trying to maintain his polite demeanor while rubbing his bruised shoulder, put his hands up in defense.

He gently tried to explain the fundamental concept of television acting to her right there in the middle of the grocery store.

He kept backing away, stammering that his real name was Larry, not Frank, and that the military base was just a soundstage on a studio lot.

But she was having absolutely none of it.

The humor of the situation escalated in the most spectacular fashion as a crowd of curious shoppers began to gather around them.

Larry looked around, desperately hoping that someone, anyone, would intervene and calm the angry woman down.

Instead, the other shoppers simply stood there, crossed their arms, and nodded in quiet agreement with her.

One guy holding a loaf of bread muttered loudly that Larry completely deserved it for being such a miserable commanding officer.

The poor guy realized he was entirely outnumbered by everyday people who hated his alter ego with a burning passion.

He had no choice but to abandon his shopping cart right there next to the bins of potatoes.

He literally turned and sprinted down the aisle, out the automatic sliding doors, and across the parking lot to the safety of his car.

The next morning, we were back on the Fox lot, scheduled to shoot an early scene in the Swamp set.

Larry walked into the canvas tent, looking completely exhausted, and told Wayne Rogers and me exactly what had transpired.

He vividly described the heavy handbag, the intense yelling, and his humiliating, high-speed retreat from the supermarket.

Wayne and I started laughing so hard we physically couldn’t breathe.

The director tried to call for quiet on the set, but he had overheard the story too, and he was wiping tears from his eyes.

The entire camera crew had to safely put their equipment down because they were shaking with laughter.

The boom operator actually had to sit down on a wooden apple box just to catch his breath.

We tried to shoot the scene three separate times, but every time I looked over at Larry, all I could picture was him fleeing from a senior citizen with a purse.

I would just burst into laughter, completely ruining take after take.

It instantly became a legendary running joke on the set for the rest of the season.

If Larry complained about a scene or asked a complicated question, Wayne would immediately threaten to call the lady from the grocery store.

The prop department even left a fresh head of lettuce and a small toy handbag on his cot in the Swamp as a warning.

Larry took it beautifully, of course, laughing harder than anyone else when he found the lettuce resting on his pillow.

It was a chaotic, hilarious morning, but it also made us realize just how deeply the show was resonating with the audience.

Larry was so undeniably brilliant at his job that he literally could not buy his own groceries in peace.

It takes a very special kind of talent to make people despise you that much, and an even more special person to laugh about it the next day.

Those shared moments of off-screen chaos and uncontrollable laughter were exactly what kept us sane during those incredibly long hours of filming.

Have you ever loved or hated a television character so much that you briefly forgot the actor playing them was a real person?