An Evening Out At Hooters





A wise man once said, I think, that "You can judge a city by the quality of its Hooters." By this definition, New York City is indeed very well endowed. Last night, I patronized the midtown Hooters restaurant with some overseas guests, who insisted that they would surely come face to face with the real America there. Well, we certainly did, if by "real" you mean teeming with skrawny, buxom women with long hair, wearing airtight, orange less-than-daisy-dukes, and sporting (the absolutely mind-boggling) nude hose with tennis shoes. I ask in all sincerity, how could you not love this place?!?


A quick side note ñ suspiciously, every single hostess and waitress had first names with, at least, three syllables...although I've yet to decipher how exactly this conspiracy plays out. The room itself was plastered with photos of the famed Hooter's gals surrounding such Hollywood luminaries as Patrick Duffy, "The Macho Man" Randy Savage, Tim Allen, Dick Butkus, Chi Chi Rodriguez, and the Dunkiní Donuts Guy...as well as a prominently placed sign reading "Men: No Shirt, No Service; Women: No Shirt, Free Food." Naturally, I immediately took off my pesky tank top, and am now sorry to report that, apparently, it's just supposed to be a funny, joke-type sign (ladies, youíve been warned). Upon being seated, we were enthusiastically greeted by our waitress for the evening, Samantha, who was very nice and attentive despite (or maybe because of) the constant ogling and double entendres dropped by the testosterone-filled contingent of our group (please note, I use the phrase "double entendre" extremely loosely, as it tends to imply the slightest trace of subtlety). As for the food, my grilled cheese sandwich was fried to perfection so that the bread outside was kind of crispy and the cheese inside was pretty soft and melted. Kudos to the chef! Everyone else at the table also enjoyed their meals, especially the wings (which, in truth, are quite good) and the $2.50 bottles of beer. Sam sold us on the 4 bottles of beer for $10 deal, and it only took us a half hour or so to realize that 4 bottles of beer at $2.50 each is, actually, $10.

Unfortunately, just as we were all becoming giddy with delight from the entire Hooters experience, the fairytale evening took a turn for the worst when Samantha flatly refused to sing the Hooter's birthday song to one of my colleagues (who even had a passport to prove it was his birthday!). As it turns out, Sam was the only one, out of 20 or so girls floating around, who really knew the intricate birthday song, and had promised herself earlier that she would not, under anycircumstances, sing it again and risk blowing her voice before the big Soft 'N Dry deodorant commercial audition today. Needless to say, we were crushed. However, she didattempt to make us feel better by showing us the hip hop dance moves she'd be using to secure the deodorant job (hey Kid 'N Play, watch yo back). She also made a point to physically touch the guys at the table several times, which seemed to lift their spirits a wee bit. So I have to give a definite A+ for service. Anyway, all was not lost, we soon recovered and continued enjoying the crazy4 bottles of beer for $10 deal...so overall (birthday song debacle aside), the night was a rousing success ñ we ate, drank, and were touched by smiling Hooter's girls. Ahhh, the real America...

(Good luck today, Sam)


Source: Ann N. Bowles

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An Evening Out At Hooters