Because, of course, you're here for the food, right?
The Birthday Boy interview
Were you surprised?
I was. A little part of me hoped/worried that we were headed to Flashdancers, the venerable strip joint on 53rd Street. But once I saw the classic Hooters logo, a sense of relief passed through me, and the knowledge that I had experienced this exact moment five years ago, on my 30th birthday. Way to think outside the box, kids. Ha, I kid.
Why does Hooters work for a birthday lunch?
It probably works if you live in the South. In New York, I was disappointed—the waitstaff wore polo and even [gasp!] long-sleeve shirts. The place was nearly empty. The food was…passable. The drinks, of course, were fine. And I had a great time. It really helped to go with a large group of people, although, actually, I think the place could be pretty great for watching sports. I might be back…and I have the weird feeling Alexis would join me.
The lowdown
The gals, Part 1—a guy’s POV: Our server Denise lives in Union City, N.J., and is putting herself through school by working days. Though lacking a true Hooters Girl look (sorry, as a vet of outposts in Tampa and Chicago, long-sleeve tees don’t cut it), she treated the birthday boy well—posing for photos, bringing over her gal pals for an embarrassing, and militaristic, rendition of the birthday song. She also knew, from memory, 27 of the 30 beers. How…studious! And when asked about her flesh-colored nylons (de rigueur for the staff), Denise provided the table with some deep, dark insight: “Trust me, it’s for your benefit. You don’t want to see what some of the girls have going on down there.” We love Denise. – Matt Rodbard
Food: Because, of course, you’re here for the food, right? Still sticking to your story? Your call. The Southwest ranch salad was gooey at best, drowning in cheese-ranch dressing and limp with “tomatoes with attitude” (or, lack thereof). The parched barbecue bacon-cheddar burger was swallowed by an avalance of bread and—with its patty teetering off one side and the bread shoved in the other direction—looked like a f---d-up Cubist Picasso, and not in a good way. The chicken wings—oh wait, those were actually phenomenally good, with their pleasantly crispy skin and tangy-hot flavor. We were almost completely won over...until we were charged 89 cents for celery. Hey, in Hootersville they gotta break even for the eye candy somehow, huh?. – Alexis L. Loinaz
Drinks: It was pitchers of Bud Light all around, except for the birthday boy, who held out for the Hooterita, an ordinary margarita rimmed with—what else?—orange salt. As a follow-up, Kirk announced he would order his new favorite: a Patron Silver gimlet. “Is that, like, a shot?” Denise asked. After a few confused minutes, she broke the news: They’re out of gimlet-staple Rose’s lime juice, at which point the inevitable ensued: “Bring me another Hooterita!” Kirk ordered. Yes, boss. – Perrie Samotin
Decor: A whole forest used to exist before Hooters’ interior-design team set out to create a chain of campsite-kitsch roadhouses. Wood tables, a cedar bar, paneled walls and a giant open kitchen drive home the laid-back atmosphere. Add the gym-class-orange waitress outfits and your trip back to the land of ‘70s Americana is complete. – Jessie Pascoe
The gals, Part 2—a woman’s POV: Not my leading choice for an editor’s birthday lunch—not because I’m a gal, but because this is New York, not Tampa. Who the hell works at Hooters in Manhattan? Chicks that didn’t make the cut at Hawaiian Tropic Zone? What I found were outdated, noncommittal waitresses who didn’t seem to feel they were being exploited, or were exploiting themselves, in the least. (Hey, they are given a copy of the Hooters manual, which states, “I do not find my job duties, uniform requirements, or work environment to be offensive, intimidating, hostile, or unwelcome.”) The servers wore baggy, long-sleeve shirts, chatted with us about what Jersey clubs they like and talked smack about the other gals. Ouch. It’s like high school with hot wings. – Perrie Samotin
What we talked about
Feeling boob...drinking at 1 p.m....thirtieth-birthday parties: love ‘em or hate ‘em?...buying a pair of gently worn Hooters girl shorts...not turning straight from being at Hooters...Hooters Airlines—what happened?
Please log in to comment