I would religiously camp out in front of the TV every Friday night in my pj’s to watch Dallas. The soapy backstabbing shenanigans of the Ewing gang. From ruthless J.R. and Sue Ellen to the loveable Pamela Ewing, the matriarch Miss Ellie and the slutty wispiness of Lucy.

I couldn’t get enough. I would kiss the back of my hand with thoughts of Bobby (but he still couldn’t hold a candle to John Travolta) and didn’t understand why Sue Ellen couldn’t just shoot J.R. for good. I think all the characters died at least once and then would remarkably come back to life. Didn’t it end up where season eight was all a dream of Pamelas with Bobby returning in season nine? Maybe that is where they jumped the shark.

But this isn’t about the TV show Dallas, sorry. If you are interested let me know and I could go on and on. See, lately the dashboard in my car has been on the fritz, doing crazy things. It used to tell me the date was July 9, 1998. But now, I rarely even have a flicker of lights, I have no idea how fast I am going, no idea how full the gas tank is and the most important for me,  no clue on what the outside temperature is. But the date always made me think, July 1998 where was I then, over ten years ago, and can you guess where I was? That’s right, Dallas.   

It was the carefree days of my first job outside of a mexican restaurant that actually required my Bachelor’s degree. I was making 20K and living off lower Greenville, the heartland of cool bars and restaurants. Snuffers for cheeseburgers and cheese fries, Blue Goose Cantina for mexican and margaritas and Stan’s Blue Note to just hang on the patio and watch the bikers drive by.

My days at the office of soft drink and snack promotions went something like this:

9 a.m.  Roll into the office, grab a cup of coffee in a cancerous styrofoam cup and head over to Abby’s desk for the latest gossip.

10 a.m.  Run a few work orders around and hide in my Creative Director’s office for a quick nap.

11 a.m.  Smoke break (sorry mom) with Abby and Fred while we scanned the five star hotel valet area across the fountain for celebs. Bono was there once. yay.

11:30 Call my account management team on the east coast to discuss what I already should have done that day.

12:00 Lunch either consisted of cheap Texas BBQ down the street or Ramen noodles with a side of free company coffee.

1:00 – 5:00 Was a blur of running between Abby’s desk to hide, art directors, copywriters, legal, scheduling, print production and smoke breaks. I had more caffeine and nicotine at this time in my life than ever before which resulted (at least in my hypothesis) in a few panic attacks. What fun!

5:00 Or sometime thereafter it was drinks downstairs at the bar with the drinking group of TLP (which was pretty much everyone). We would usually stay there for an hour or so and then head up the street to the fabulous dive bar, The Grapevine, where I developed a taste for dirty martinis.

LATHER. RINSE. REPEAT.

Where were you in July 1998? Please tell me! I really want to know. REALLY.