Thursday, May 19, 2005

Hooter Me, Hooter You

When I first moved to Austin, I was stunned to learn that there was a restaurant chain called Hooters (rube that I was). I couldn’t believe they could actually have an eatery clearly named after breasts, you know?

So I joined some friends there one evening in November of ’90. Burgers, fries, the usual forgettable chain fare. But the waitress, in her short orange shorts, hose and tight top, was hanging all over me. Hanging all over all of us, in fact.

It occurred to me that this was the same principle behind a strip joint: You get a passing thrill, a brief sensation of touch with some piece of eye candy, and you’re supposed to pony up big tips.

It rubbed me the wrong way (literally and figuratively). What I saw was some cheerleader plying her false affections for tip money. A woman who pretends to like someone for cash… well, I’d say there’s a label or two that’d be appropriate for her.

I know, I’m weird, but I swore I’d never go back. It was an insult somehow, and just part of straight male culture that I didn’t care for.

***

September 11 of 2001 I was on the way to work. I knew what had happened, though I was asleep at the time and only saw the replays after I got up.

On the way in I got a page from the office. I stopped at the closest pay phone I could find (I did not have a cellphone yet) to call the office.

It was in a Hooters, turns out. First time I'd been there in about 11 years. I didn't stay long.

***

The office said to go home.

***

Hood was working a radio remote at the Hooters in Grapevine last night, and he asked if I’d stop by.

Not much of the old resentment was there, so I agreed.

Some observations:

I saw three patrons with a lot of missing teeth before I was even seated. Jeez, is it THAT trashy?

Me at the BAR, ordering a diet Coke is a rather awkward feeling.

The radio crew consisted of Hood, Red the promotions guy, and Cat the DJ.

Red drank beer straight out of the pitcher and tossed me radio station freebies (I now have a shirt proclaiming that I am a “Bonehead.”). When we were live, HE was the lone person in the background screaming and whooping. Makes me wonder how often that’s the case when I hear some remote. The Hooters patrons were there to watch the Dallas Mavericks game, and in fact, when the game was on the music was turned off. Yes, this was a radio remote broadcast during which hardly any music was played.

The DJ was Cat, who was nice enough, but a strapping biker woman who… well, let’s just say she probably doesn’t have a Mary Kaye rep. Good radio voice, but man, did NOT at all look like she sounded. She’d sound excited, like we in the middle of some great hoopla while Red screeched and whooped.

It was not much ado about not much.

I stayed for an hour or more and took off. Listening to the broadcast on the way home, yeah, it DID sound like something exciting was happening there.

***

I worked a remote like that many years ago. An Austin “worldbeat” DJ was broadcasting from a studio at a TV station where I worked. No one was there, and the atmosphere was dead. He’d talk to me in a regular Joe voice, telling me I didn’t have the house sound loud enough. I told him that when we had some bodies in there I’d turn it up.

When we were live, though, he’d take the microphone and suddenly sound Jamaican: “We’re hahvin’ a dahnce pah-tay!!”

It was embarrassing, and it got worse when a roomful of barefoot white people came in and started actually shaking their Caucasian groove things to the DJ’s tired blend of generic worldbeat stuff.

***

I guess I take things too seriously sometimes, and that I should relax on stuff like Hooters’ treatment of customers. But you know, I did last night, and even after letting that go a bit… blech, you know? It’s just not who I AM. It’s about drinking beer and ogling these flirtatious little Barbies. I’m as heterosexual as they get, but man, this strange little T&A show just isn’t for me.

***

Slept four and a half, maybe five hours. I’ve got a cold or something, fluid in my lungs. I had these bad snoring fits overnight that kept waking Kelli and me up. I tried to move to a different position, but lying on my right side made something on the right side of my chest hurt. It’s been hurting ever since. Not bad, but it’s exacerbated by leaning, bending over, and the occasional deep breath.

Comtrex Deep Chest Cold is helping. I’m functional, not coughing much… but I don’t understand what hurts and why. If it’s not better tomorrow, Kelli tells me I’m going to the doctor.

***

Best of luck to Whit this week…

4 comments:

Anonymous said...

Hmmm. Then it's safe to say that you will not be booking a flight on this airline?

All things considered, I'd still love to have one of those little flying owl pins if they made them sans the woman. That logo has always made me smile.

Georgina

Anonymous said...

You know, I have never set foot in a Hooters. It's just...never occurred to me. And I hear the food is mediocre at best. T&A aside, if the food's not that good, why bother? I mean, who goes to a strip club (where, if you want to be politically incorrect about it, you get more value for your tip money) for the "gourmet steak dinner"?

Michael

Anonymous said...

"Hmmm. Then it's safe to say that you will not be booking a flight on this airline?"

I looked over the front page of the site, trying to find evidence that it's a big joke...but it isn't, is it?

Michael

Geoff said...

Random Musings on Hooters....

My best friend Chris has an older brother named Donnie, when we were in grade school Donnie was really cool. He listened to Def Lepperd and White Snake and drove this beat to hell green car... then he got on some weird religious kick and became a mennonite. They homeschool the kids and think that taking photographs is against God's will... Donnie took three of his kid's (who were all under the age of seven) to the Hooters at the mall once because he saw the sign and honestly thought the restaraunt had an animal theme....There are a few good looking waitresses at Hooters, but 80% are just beat to hell, 40 something and rode hard and put to bed wet as the colloquialism goes. Very few men that i know are attracted to the Hooters waitresses, but every man I know lusts wildly over the women at Olive Garden and Target. But if you go to Hooters youre an asshole and if you go to Olive Garden and Target youre normal...
Went to the Hooters in Norfolk Virginia once, I had to fly in on Sunday and once I got to my hotel it was the only thing I could find that was open. I hadnt' eaten all day and I was starving. I didn't think I could redneck the experience up beyond going to Hooters alone on Sunday, but then I saw they were showing a wrestling pay per view...