one time, while i was working as a front waiter at Jean Georges, i dropped a bottle of wine that bounced off the table, that hit a glass, that shattered and cut a lady on her arm.
jean georges sucked. but atleast i got to fuck some people up.
and i got to meet bruce willis. it was the second time i saw him in my life of service. the first time was when i was cocktailing at a club in boston when i was like, 19. his crappy band performed to a house full of over weight middle-aged bostonians with femstaches.
this time i got to wait on him and some hollywood suit type in the outdoor seating area of jean georges' self named restaurant located in the trump tower across the street from central park. its beautiful. and it smells like horse manure from all those horses they use to drag tourists around the park.
baldy bruce totally checked me out. i thought i was hallucinating it until i noticed it was so much so, that hollywood, (who refused to make eye-contact with me) was getting irritated and gave him this 'slumming it?' look. they ordered a sparkling water. bruce ordered the egg and caviar. hollywood only consumes human souls so he ordered nothing. baldy handed me a hundo as they left.
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