Dessert Surprise

Dessert Surprise: Encountering Jim Jordan Before My Son’s Prom

By Jessica H

     I was surprised recently with the honor of being my son’s prom dinner date after his original plans got canceled. I thought this was purely delightful! Towards the end of our meal I was stopped mid-sentence, however, as none other than Republican U.S. Congressman Jim Jordan, 4th District Ohio, was seated directly across the aisle from me!  After a double-take to confirm, I assured myself it was him, seated with smug ego beaming from his grinning face. I made eye contact with the two women with him, who shared equally eager grins.  I had to acknowledge this opportunity.  This disgraceful representative was in a group of four and no more than two arm lengths away from me!  This dinner was about to change.     

Here is the scene: Foremost, I remind myself, this is Eddie’s dinner.  While my son is as liberal as they come, he is completely non confrontational; an extreme, for him, would be to act passive aggressively in the situation.


    “Do you mind if I make a scene?,” I scribble on the back of one of the few receipt copies I had just received and slide the note to my son.  Jarred he asks “Huh? What are you talking about?”  

Next receipt: “Beside me now is Jim Jordan. AKA: Representative from Champaign County -Urbana, OH. AKA: Trump-suck-up X 10,000 to the power of n. AKA: OSU sex-abuse-report-neglector. This man is a conspirator beyond belief! I’m sure you can understand there are some things I’d like to say to him.”

Son’s not impressed. Before I can stop him without causing a scene, Eddie is walking away from the table.  Now what?, I think. What good is a confrontation if no one is there to witness it? I can’t record myself doing this either. Gah! I call his phone. “Son, come back to the table please. No scenes, promise.”

When he returns to the table, I ask him just to stand right outside the doorway and at least get a recording of my moment for me. Refused again. “Hurry up, Mom! The dance, remember?!”

Of course! But . . . I have to do something, say something!  I grab another receipt and jot “How do you sleep at night? And How TF are you an Ohioan? I hope you go straight to jail when the truth comes out about you!  Ohio DESERVES BETTER!! WE DESERVE HONORABLE LEADERSHIP! How do you dare come here and smile at me and ruin my dinner!?”


     That’s enough.  The size of the receipt tells me so.  Turning towards his table, I garner the womens’ attention again and whisper “Is that Mr. Jordan?” They beam out their “yes” replies. Simultaneously, he acknowledges me, lowering his head and batting his eyes and shining that grin of notoriety – giving his thanks to me. I hand him my receipt/note, saying “Thank you! For nothing!” I give my best evil smile, draw my hand back and wave as I sashay away.


     With complete guilty satisfaction, I smile and wave again when I pass their window outside. As my son awaits me already at the car, I claim success!  I reach my door and press unlock; it doesn’t. “Mom, did you lock your keys in the car?”


     “Nope. It wouldn’t have locked if they were. But my purse is still on the back of my chair at the table. So, go get it. Please?”