DISAPPOINTMENT 3 - IT'S NOT EASY BEING ORANGE

The following year, a friend was going to celebrate his birthday and he didn't know where he wanted to go. Another friend suggested Hooters



of course this was the hands down favorite among the guys.

I had never been to a Hooters and neither had the birthday boy. He hemmed and hawed about not wanting to be surrounded by strippers (which of course made me to gasp out in surprise, 'who DOESN'T want to be surrounded by strippers?' I remembered the Dino episodes, of course, but I kept those horror stories to myself.). Being one of the more vocal member of of our particular little clan of "party animals" (said with more sarcasm than Hollywood has silicone), I talked it up like I was seasoned pro and, finally convinced him that into having his celebration among the buxom beauties in orange by saying I would pay for him.

His birthday was two weeks away. That means I had less than 14 days to actually go there, so I could act the part of the above mentioned season pro.

I was caught in my web of deceit (who didn't see THAT coming?). Since I had never been to a Hooters, I needed someone to go there with. I couldn't ask the "party animals" because they had all been there when I said how awesome it was, and to ask them would expose me to ridicule. I know it would have been deserved, but like most men, I just didn't want to hear about it.

I convinced my friend Mike to come with me. Yes, the same Mike from the Cheetahs debacle. Because he was a long time friend, I told him about my predicament. He agreed to go, but I had to pay for him.

Which basically means I was committed to treating two people, to a place I have never been to and not knowing what to expect.

That weekend, Mike and I headed to Hooters.

Upon entering, I was greeted with all of these pictures and posters of all these lovely and "blessed" women garbed in tight white t-shirts and orange shorts.

OOOH! AHHH!

ENTER THE HOSTESS

I did not notice the Hostess. There was a young girl wearing a white polo shirt who stood by the inside door though.

During this moment in time I was 26-27 years old, and this girl looked like she was 16, so I took her for the busboy...ahh I mean busgirl. When she asked us "How many in your party?" I was a bit stunned. Mike answered "Just us, and we would like smoking."

She said "Well follow me."

I asked her "Umm, just how old are you?"

She replied "I just turned 18."

"Oh OK." That was all I could say.

Let me explain why anything ending in "teen" unnerves me so much.

For the first 12 1/2 years of my existence I was an only child. Except for every other weekend. That's when my step-brother would stay with us, but I really don't count that. At age 12 1/2 my sister came into the world.

Now if we fast forward the years when I am 26-27 years old my baby sister would be 14-15 years old. Which makes 18 years old look awful young.

INTERMISSION

This age discrepancy has ruined a whole lot of things for me. Like Playboy. It's so disturbing to see girls who are the same age or younger than my baby sister, displayed for the whole world to see. It makes me feel like a "perverted old man." When Smallville started some of the "party animals" made comments about Allison Mack and Kristen Kreuk (both 19 years old at the time playing the part of a 16 year olds), being so "HOT!" and it just creeped me out.

END OF INTERMISSION

So the youngling sat us and after a few minutes our waitress approached the table.

Here was yet another "teen."

We ordered a pitcher of beer, a burger for yours truly, and Mike had the hot wings.

As I looked around I noticed a small trend. None of the girls here looked like slightly more mature women in the photos from the lobby. Most of them would definitely fit into the "awww isn't she cute" (said in the tone normally reserved for puppies and small children) category.

I looked at the patrons of the restaurant leering and gawking and thought to myself "Yes sir God, we are all going to hell, and I'll lead the way."

Our food arrived very quickly, which was a god thing because the faster we ate, the faster we could get out of there.

The food was OK. Nothing at all to brag about.

I just wanted to get out of there as soon as possible. I felt like a dirty old man.

Knowing I would be back in a week, made me feel even dirtier.



NEXT - DISAPPOINTMENT 3 - IT'S NOT EASY BEING ORANGE pt 2