I SURVIVED NOBU

This is twice now that I have been challenged by someone in my own office to step up to Peppard. I can’t help it if I was partying late night with Bobby and I couldn’t get to a computer. Okay. That’s a lie. But, still. Here’s what happened.

Nobu probably means champagne hangover in Japanese. Just ask Laura. Waiters bombarded me the minute I walked in. Bubbly, martinis, and sake, oh my. One waitress had a mischievous look on her face as if she knew exactly how I was going to feel at 8 a.m., but she poured anyway. There were news cameras, photographers, and journalists everywhere. We were sampling the tuna sushi when Bobby De Niro walked in. It was as if people in Dallas had never seen a movie star before. People were actually lined up to talk to him, touch him, and take pictures of him with camera phones. They ogled and fawned and pawed. Laura let a “hi” slip out when he walked by. It was like this faint squeal thing as she flapped her hand in an awkward motion. He ignored her. To my surprise, not many party regulars showed. Leisa and Gene Street, Caroline Rose Hunt, Richard Baker, Brad Oldham, and Dean Fearing were some of the recognizable faces. Then, they did this cheesy breaking the barrel of sake thing and presented Chef Matsuhisa with cowboy boots. After Jennifer and I witnessed a woman bite it on the stairs, we took that as our cue to call it a night.

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