Strange night. I hung out with Chris-who-makes-it-happen, Hazel, Ed-who-cooks and the CSO at Hooters, my first Hooters experience. Ed claimed Hooters was a bit of Americana and this experience everyone needed at least once. I didn't see what the big deal was. After all, I've had greasy chicken wings before and I'm pretty sure our waitress was an A-cup with a really good pushup bra.
Ed talked about how he had a public-access cooking show in college and how much he wanted to start it up again. He made it sound really fun and the other four of us were all enthused when he talked about possibly doing it again and offered to invest. Nothing came of it really, but it sounds like a cool thing to be involved with.
I was last in Hooters a couple of years ago while on a business trip. I checked into my hotel late without having eaten dinner, and the only restaurant in the hotel complex still open was a Hooters.
Not having a dining companion, I went to dinner alone with the book I had brought along on the trip for entertainment. My waitress, like most of the other staff, may have been only a B-cup on a good day, but she was extraordinarily perky and friendly nonetheless, and when she saw a middle-aged man sitting alone she made it a point to be especially bubbly toward me.
"Whatcha readin, hon?" she asked in a Malibu Barbie singsong.
"A new murder mystery, called The Dante Club," I replied.
"Ooh, I love mystery novels," she said. "What's it about?"
So I told her. And as I did, the expression on her face went from come-hither to confused to bored to slightly guarded and alarmed, and my service for the rest of the meal was attentive and courteous, but all-business.
Here's a synopsis, from the book's website:
1865 Boston, a small group of literary geniuses puts the finishing touches on America’s first translation of The Divine Comedy and prepares to unveil the remarkable visions of Dante to the New World. The powerful old guard of Harvard College wants to keep Dante out—believing that the infiltration of such foreign superstitions onto our bookshelves would prove as corrupting as the foreign immigrants invading Boston harbor. The members of the Dante Club —Unitarian poets and Harvard professors Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Dr. Oliver Wendell Holmes, James Russell Lowell and publisher J. T. Fields— endure the intimidation of their fellow Boston Brahmins for a sacred literary cause, an endeavor that has sustained Longfellow in the hellish aftermath of his wife’s tragic death by fire.
But the plans of the Dante Club come to a screeching halt when a series of murders erupts through Boston and Cambridge. Only the members of the Dante Club realize that the style and form of the killings are stolen directly from Dante’s Inferno and its singular account of Hell’s punishments. With the police baffled, lives endangered and Dante’s literary future at stake, the Dante Club must shed its sheltered literary existence and find a way to stop the killer.
The brunt of the burden falls to Dr. Oliver Wendell Holmes, whose unique literacy in both poetry and medicine continues to pull him into the center of the struggle. An outcast policeman, Nicholas Rey, the first and only black member of the Boston police department, places his future on the line after discovering the secrets of the Dante Club. Together, they find the key to the murders where they least expect it: closer than they could have imagined.
Hooters has this strange, faux feel to it.
I think if someone wnats to do something like that, they should go to a strip club.
AP (Anonymous Poster)
Hooters is nothing like a strip joint. It's just an upscale bar with pub food, and flirty waitresses in tight outfits as a marketing gimmick.
CC couldn't have had the evening she had at Hooters in a strip joint instead. The clientele and the milieu are entirely different.
I'd say fausto is right that I couldn't have had the same night anywhere else.
For example, with a well-padded A-Cup waittress, when someone commented about the guys coming to watch "women with large breasts," the CSO gave mine long and concentrated looks for several minutesz. I like Alpha and Beta, but I don't think they could have held his attention that long in an environment with actual nudity.
Our waittress was a lot like Fausto's, though we guessed she was a college student from the way she put words together.
Fausto's book sounds like exactly the sort of thing I would read
who is planning out a post on her morning at a booksale, but has to run TheCSO to the airport first, *sniffle*
It promotes itself as a strip joince. And I have been told that Hooters will pay half for boob jobs for their waitresses.
My major prob with strip bars is that, like rpo wrestling, they ahve gone upscale. Both things were much more fun backw hen tehy ahd a sort of a seedy feel to them.
How are modern strip clubs not seedy? Every one I've ever been in has been gross and nasty.
I have no idea how Hooters could bill itself as a strip club. There isn't any nudity. They don't even serve liquor.
I dunno, I saw the original hooters in West Virginia.
I would say that hooters is a lot like West Virginia: A sort of awkward place with lots of curves and semi-natural beauty marred by the occasional peice of industrialization. You don't know how you ended up here, you wouldn't really plan to go again anytime soon, and you probably just ended up passing through on your way somewhere else. The experience is never bad, you've heard stories of badness, and are usually only once removed from someone who has had to spend quality time there...
Yea, I haven't actually been into one of those places. But I love driving through west virginia on the way up to the midwest.
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