In a storyline stranger than fiction, Dallas’s local gay community extended an unexpected olive branch to Dallas Cowboys owner Jerry Jones this week, offering their expertise in helping him select curtains for AT&T Stadium. The invitation, complete with promises of “fabulousness” and bottomless mimosas, came in response to Jones’s recent struggles to address the infamous sun glare that plagued wide receiver CeeDee Lamb during a critical play in Week 10 of the NFL season.
Lamb’s missed touchdown catch, blamed squarely on AT&T Stadium’s blinding late-afternoon sunlight, reignited calls for Jones to install curtains on the stadium’s massive end-zone windows. The Cowboys’ longtime billionaire owner, born shortly after the extinction of the dinosaurs—or as his PR team euphemistically calls it, the “post-Mesozoic era”—had reportedly spent a day visiting home décor stores in search of a solution. His aim? To find a practical yet “stadium-appropriate” fix for the design flaw that has been as much a part of Cowboys lore as playoff disappointments.
Enter the local gay community, who saw an opportunity to both help the team and bring some much-needed pizzazz to the famously neutral-toned venue.
“Jerry needs help,” said Carlos M., a Dallas interior designer and self-proclaimed “long-suffering Cowboys fan.” “No offense, but AT&T Stadium is about as fabulous as an empty Costco. If we’re going to do curtains, we’re going to do curtains. Bold colors, maybe some sequins. Let’s make it a spectacle.”
Determined to bring Jones into their world, the group organized a curtain-shopping spree, complete with an extensive mimosa-fueled itinerary. But, as several attendees described it, the event was not without its challenges.
“Jerry looked like he’d rather be facing a fourth-and-long,” said Brandon L., who escorted Jones through a local boutique. “I tried to explain the importance of matching thread counts to curtain weights, and he just stared at me like I suggested bedazzling a football helmet.”
Others observed that Jones, whose formative years were spent in a world where societal norms were carved into stone—literally, if his birthdate is to be believed—seemed deeply uncomfortable. Witnesses say he repeatedly declined mimosas, opting instead for a glass of tap water and muttering about “not needing anything fancy.”
Still, the community was undeterred. “We’ll get there,” Carlos said optimistically. “It’s like breaking in a new pair of Louboutins. Painful at first, but so worth it.”
The group presented Jones with several options for the stadium, including blackout curtains in a deep metallic navy with silver trim and an alternative featuring 50-foot rhinestone tassels. “He kind of grimaced at the rhinestones,” said Carlos, “but we’ll work on it. Baby steps.”
When asked for a comment, Jones offered his trademark gruffness. “Well, I appreciate their time and all, but I’m not sure the stadium needs to look like the inside of Liberace’s closet.”
The incident has already sparked a wave of social media reactions. One commenter wrote, “I didn’t have ‘Jerry Jones and the gays go curtain shopping’ on my NFL bingo card, but I’m here for it.” Another joked, “Jerry was worried the curtains might match the Cowboys’ record this season: sheer disappointment.”
Whether Jones ultimately takes the group’s advice—or retreats to his comfort zone of muted tones and gridiron grumpiness—remains to be seen. For now, though, it’s safe to say AT&T Stadium has never been this close to fabulous.
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