Fish out of water
It was likely my obsession with food (and my strong opinions about it) that led to me dining at one of the LAST places anyone who knows me would ever picture me going to willingly. Am I prissy? Yes. Am I prim and proper? Yes. Am I uptight? Oh, yes. So, how is it that I spent last evening at Hooters?
A few weeks ago, the subject of chicken wings came up in a food conversation. While I’m not a huge fan (too messy to eat in public) I did say that I thought the best wings in St. Louis are at Culpepper’s. My friend, Phil, wholeheartedly disagreed. He stated that the best, by far, were at Hooters, adding that all the food there was good. I am sure I made some scoffing noise that conveyed doubt and derision. I felt that saying you went to Hooters for the food was like saying you bought Playboy for the articles. In short, I wasn’t buying it. When I admitted I had never eaten there, he went into full-court-press mode to convince me I needed to go to see what I’d been missing. My suggestion of getting the food as takeout was quickly shot down as Phil insisted I needed to dine there to have the full Hooters experience. He was even bold enough to venture that I’d have a good time and go again in the future.
That is how I found myself walking into Hooters with Phil. I was pleased to not be the only female patron, but I would say the male presence at any given time there was at least 85-90%–no lower, and maybe a little higher. I was in the definite minority of the customers. No big surprise there!
Phil was right about a lot–I did have fun on many counts. Our server was sweet, and kept the flirting to an amount that was reasonably easy to stomach. The drinks and food were good. Not great, but good. (My wing vote still goes to Culpepper’s!) Hooters is an upbeat place, so it was fun in that regard. The mood is a happy one, so there’s always a chance I’ll go again. But I’d be more open to going back if it wasn’t for this one little thing: the uniforms. The little, little uniforms.
Which is actually a big thing for me. It’s probably a combination of the mother in me, the reserved personality I possess, and my protective nature, but my trip to Hooters was mainly about watching the interactions between the young, provocatively dressed servers and the men they waited on. The ogling as the servers walked away, and the subsequent, obvious comments and laughter among the men at the tables made me very uncomfortable…as a mom, as a woman, and as a human. Having two daughters, it makes me sad that society has made it okay, and profitable, for attractive young women to parade around in tight clothing and flirt to increase their tips from inebriated men. At least that’s the feeling that washed over me as I exited the restaurant.
Some might say I need to relax, to loosen up, and maybe there’s some validity to that. But that still wouldn’t address the dynamic I saw at play last night. It was not something I enjoyed witnessing. I thoroughly felt like a fish out of you-know-what. And this little fish couldn’t wait to jump back into her fishbowl and swim in more familiar waters.
- Posted in: Life ♦ Reflection
barrelmakersdaughter 
We are definitely of the same mind! We have a Hooters near us and we ate there about 20 years ago!!! Also have a similar type restaurant called the Tilted Kilt but with the same dynamic — cute waitresses in very suggestive outfits. Totally turns me off from dining there. So glad you’re back to writing — your blogs are fun, thought-provoking, touching — I treasure each one.