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…