Hooters and Men :: Personal Narrative Restaurants Papers

Hooters and MenI gullt know why I feel so nervous. Ive eaten at Hooters once before and it wasnt so terrible. Its just a wing joint where the waitresses are famous for being bosomy. Maybe thats it. I feel inadequate. My bantam chest will pale in comparison to the over abundance of female flesh put so confidently on display and my comrade will never look at me the same. Come to think of it, why was he so proud and anxious to tell every male helpmate he had that his girlfriend asked him to go to Hooters with her? And why did they respond with cheers, hollers and, man, youre so lucky? The feeling of trepidation grows as our car nears the dreaded restaurant. I dont need to feel uneasy how busy could this restaurant be at 730 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 incriminatory 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 tender 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 wont look so bizarre walking into the restaurant next to them.I open the door to a sm all told room where Hooters paraphernalia is sold. Everything from T-shirts to shot glasses, all decorated with the Hooters logo. I have to admit its 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 doesnt 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 pillow slip of informal eatery.