Hooters and Men :: Personal Narrative Restaurants Papers

Hooters and Men I don’t know why I feel so nervous. I’ve eaten at Hooters once before and it wasn’t so terrible. It’s just a wing joint where the waitresses are famous for being bosomy. Maybe that’s it. I feel inadequate. My small chest will pale in comparison to the over abundance of female flesh put so confidently on display and my boyfriend will never look at me the same. Come to think of it, why was he so proud and anxious to tell every male friend he had that his girlfriend asked him to go to Hooters with her? And why did they respond with cheers, hollers and, â€Å"man, you’re so lucky?† The feeling of trepidation grows as our car nears the dreaded restaurant. I don’t need to feel uneasy: how busy could this restaurant be at 7:30 on a Wednesday night? The sight of a parking lot full of cars almost causes me to force my boyfriend to turn the car around, leaving skid marks as the only piece of incriminating evidence to prove that I was on Hooters property. No, face your fear. I open the car door and walk up to the restaurant, with my boyfriend doing a good impression of not being giddy following at my heels. When I have almost reached the door, a car pulls up and two older couples, probably in their middle sixties, get out. I find it odd that they would patron this particular restaurant, but their presence helps to put me at ease. Maybe I won’t look so bizarre walking into the restaurant next to them. I open the door to a small room where Hooters paraphernalia is sold. Everything from T-shirts to shot glasses, all decorated with the Hooters logo. I have to admit it’s a good marketing strategy: this room is the first thing to greet a customer walking in and the last thing a customer sees on the way out. But the strategy doesn’t work (or at least at this point) for either the older couples or my boyfriend and I. Instead, we walk into the crowded restaurant and try to find a place to sit. My boyfriend and I choose a table against the wall. This table is high off the ground and we sit on stools, which makes it feel like we are at a bar, or another type of informal eatery.