Hooters

My long time friend, Scott, a great guy and good American decided last week that we wanted chicken wings for lunch. In Anchorage my favorite place for that fare was a place called Wings N Things which closed its doors a few months ago. There are not many really great places for hot wings now around town . . . as The Peanut Farm is about the only place that offers some decent wings. Several of the sports bars have them but many are not my kind of place. I had not been to the local Hooters in a couple of years so I pressed the issue so we could go and have a little chicken delight over Scott’s repeated objections and kidding that he will follow me anywhere.

I really wanted to try those Hooters again as The Peanut Farm is a place we frequent on a regular basis but for some reason I usually pass on their wings. I’m getting this funny line from Scott that his wife didn’t want to join us as it was “Hooters” and she did not want to ruin the experience for us. That for us turned out to be a laugh. Not everything in life turns out as you plan and last week's visit to Hooters nothing at Hooters is as great or fun as it is made out to be. Hooters however will make for a fitting review and a chuckle, so here goes.

Both of us had one of those normal busy mornings at our offices and the afternoon would prove to be more of the same. I arrived a couple of minutes later than Scott who was sitting there looking at the local fare (waitresses) and watching one of the several large televisions on the walls overhead. It was past the normal lunch crowd so there was only one other customer in the place with three waitresses working at the time. One had a little more thighs coming out from under her orange short shorts than probably expected at Hooters and our waitress was overly thin (had missed a few greasy meals or wings herself I guess) with that ‘deer in the headlights’ look about her.

She took our order and we watched her sling the paper down the wire to the kitchen crew for our much anticipated hot wings. We continued talking and observing those folks that slowly wandered in behind us. A very motley crew with several dressed in their work Carhart clothing while others in various kinds of Alaskan ware.

We continued to talk and our waitress wandered by every 10 minutes or so to tell us that our wings would be ready any minute. We watched several meals go out of the kitchen to the other tables who ordered after us.

The wings at Hooters have always been hyped up for a long time, as we used to visit one of the many locations when I lived in Atlanta years ago. There usually are some lofty expectations about the “concept” of Hooters but all I was looking for on this afternoon was a nice meal of spicy wings. I used to think I might be missing out on a great experience by passing up Hooters for Wings N Things but now I know (and remember) . . . Hooters wings are just like any other hot wings you order at other restaurants.

The wings once they finally arrived didn't really have any meatiness to them as they were merely vessels for the sauce and breading which was most unfortunate because they could strive to be so much more. I must give them credit for being hot and crispy (oily), but they lacked flavor and weren't any better than the ones found in any Anchorage sports bars.

We ate and tried to not crack each other up going over the idea of the Hooters experience and our pitiful wings. Mine were especially meager in the meat side of things but several had that extra secret ingredient . . . a few were cooked with their feathers sticking out the sides of the wing or leg. It cracked us up all the while our waitress with the deer in the headlights look wandered around trying to force her ‘smile’ and witty banter on the patrons.

We sat there and tried to eat everything but it was hard to get past the feathers and I left one uneaten on my plate. Here comes our bouncy waitress who asks why I left one on my plate. I told her I had eaten the other 5 that had feathers on them but I just couldn’t get those last feathers to go down. She just smiled and said ok, and laid our check down and walked away.

She wandered over to another table and sat down talking to the other guys there while we waited for her to collect our money so we could leave. We waited and she looked at us and smiled that blankness in her eyes and face obvious let us know she had no clue we were ready to leave. We put our jackets on letting her know we were ready . . . that silly grin . . . those lost eyes . . . that blank stare our way without the first bit of movement to take our money. Scott and I headed towards the front door area where a cash register was located and stood there hoping to get her attention once again and move her towards us so we could pay and be on our way.

She stood up and headed to our empty table and stood there blankly looking at where we once sat. She turned away from us to look around the place and see where we had gone never looking towards the door at all. Finally in frustration and the realization she might have been walked out on she turned towards the door and gasped that she thought we had left. We told her we have been waiting for awhile and shouting to her to come collect our money so we could finally leave.

There were no apologies for the service . . . no idea that we were not pleased with the feathers . . . and totally oblivious to everything that had transpired.

We had our “Hooters experience” and not looking forward to it again anytime soon. To the women who worry about their men going to Hooters for the experience or those wings . . . it may be more about seeing that deer in the headlights look that is sometimes so hard to find in other places.

I guess my search for the great wing continues . . .

Happy Holidays!

Ice