Trip to Hooters

I went to Hooters the other day. I was quite looking forward to it, because Ive never been to one, and my only exposure to it is from a couple of Hollywood movies and hoardings where they showed smiling big-breasted blonds with sexy strands of hair framing their faces. And the sexual implications were all the more puzzling considering it was touted as a family restaurant.

And it was quite a bemusing experience, though not in the way I had expected. Sure, the girls were large breasted, and dressed in tight white tops with the slogan "Delightfully Tacky, Yet Unrefined" (Huh????) and dark orange not-even-hotpants, but what struck me as vulgar was the quality of all-men groups who go there. Yes, it is a family restaurant; we saw many groups spanning three generations, as well as couples. But the single guys (the guys who came alone or in groups, not necessarily on the basis of their status), were gross, and I just ended up feeling sorry for the girls.

And this outing was an interesting example of the differences in the ways men and women think. For instance, the guys in my group were somewhat unnerved, and said that this was not a place they would bring their children to, while I didnt have a problem with doing that. Someone mentioned that this would be a great place for a 12-13 year old boy. My fundamental problem with that would be the rather great disappointment such a boy would be in for, once he gets to high school and discovers that all girls DONT have bodies like that!

For my part, I just felt really saddened by the whole experience, funnily. Here is a bunch of girls, barely women, who have been chosen on the basis of their assets, (which they really cant help to a large extent), who are just cleaning tables, serving drinks, having to be friendly and endure lewd looks and comments when they come, and who are probably single moms and just want the shift to end so they can go home and attend to another major, haranguing part of their lives. There was no lingering sexuality, no suggestive leaning on tables, order pad in hand, with cleavage hanging out. No attempt to hit on anyone. And I think thats why I was comfortable there. What I was NOT comfortable with, was how easily the guys were drawn into the Hooters advertising trap. It elicited a reaction out of them, even if it may have not been the one that the owners were looking for. I doubt we'll go back, but I think that has more to do with the lack of vegetarian options than its tittilative (titillatory- is the the right form?) aspect being too much for us.

One image, however, does remain with me from that night. Our sweet-looking, pale-skinned waitress, walking towards us (not sashaying), and a run halfway down her stocking. And that pretty much symbolised the entire operation for me. Meat on the platter, meat at the table, but no juice.

I just saw the Hooters website just now. Its like the dumb man's Playboy.