Ah, I tried to stay away.
Here I am, thousands of miles away from my beloved Dallas and its people, baking away on some useless, sandy beach on the North Shore of Oahu. I am rarely in my room. I don’t own an iPhone. The television has at least four channels of people dancing the hula, and all I have wanted to do is sit back with my Mai Tai and forget about two things: Ocean Prime, and Jerry Jones.
They followed me. They followed me here.
As a blogger I must be on the ball with current events, so of course it hasn’t escaped my attention that Jerry Jones was recently recorded over at Ocean Prime dissing Bill Parcells in a drunken stupor (see link below.) I also heard about him using a diabetes fundraiser yesterday to semi-apologize for said social mishap (see second link, below.) While neither of this seems particularly surprising or newsworthy to me, I must confess I am closer to this than I would like. One: I was at Ocean Prime the night this all went down. And two: I used to work at that restaurant, and have witnessed Jones’ antics on more than one occasion that in my opinion trumps this. A lot.
When you moonlight as a bartender at a restaurant that houses the drunken and affluent of Dallas, you may see some things that are meant to be sealed within the walls of the place. Ocean Prime has become, after all, the place to “be and be seen,” as well as a place to do things that are meant to be seen and not heard (about.) No longer an employee, however, I must say something about all this, as Jones has been a regular there since Prime opened last November, coming in with spry, blinking twenty-somethings weekly, and getting a lot of hushed whispers about his affairs. While it doesn’t matter to me what someone does inter-or-extra-maritally, I do believe that with a certain amount of money and power one can pretty much do what he likes–which is exactly what Jones does. I adore this. It’s like giving the middle finger to the plebian class and their morals, which as absurd as it sounds seems kind of feudalistic and dark-ageish to me and I just think that’s hilarious. So when Jones has a little too much to drink and spills some stuff about his team to some jackass with a digital recorder, or lifts a skirt and spanks a random girl over the bar (actually happened), I just nod and think, “Ah, that Jerry. That’s my guy.”
//
//
//
//
