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HootersOn June 30, a few of our Baggers decided to answer the call from our readers: Give the popular restaurant chain "Hooters" the Paper Bag Review treatment. Could it live up to the hype? The Cast: Hartley Fortesque-Mousewrangler: Senior member of the Paper Bag Review staff. Renowned Brit. Bitterly sarcastic with very little provocation. Preston Seider: The Hollywood In-Seider, alleged womanizer and shop-aholic-ne’er-do-well. Sidearms: Youngest member of the PBR staff; purveyor of all things culinary and condimentary The Location: Hooters, located on Santa Monica Boulevard and 4th St. in Santa Monica, CA The Waitress: Our main server was Cheryl, from Orange County, CA. She also goes to some sort of junior college. We'll rate Hooters based on these 5 categories: food and beverage, service, ambience, clientele and wardrobe. Food and Beverage: Hartley: Choosing the Buffalo Chicken Strips was an act of heroism that I wasn’t aware of until later in the evening. The ‘911’ sauce was piquant and cheeky but the chicken was substandard and lacked any kind of flavor of its own. Hence the sauce. This ‘Bagger’ was not impressed. I ordered sparkling mineral water to bait the two kids. 2/5 Preston: I've always thought the food at Hooters was pathetic, and I was not disappointed on this occasion. I chose the grilled cheese sandwich with fries, and a pint of Miller Lite. The bread on the sandwich was thick, in an obvious effort by management to trim costs. There was hardly any cheese. And, the fries were brutal. It would be tough to have fries that tasted worse than that, including frozen Ore-Ida. 2/5 Sidearms: I knew better than to order actual food at this eatery, so I went with a bucket of domestic beers…I think they were 4 for $9.99…they weren’t fire-brewed Stroh’s, but at least they were cold (actually, borderline frozen). Hartley also made me try a chicken strip, thus validating the additional $.69 charge on the bill for me using his ranch dipping sauce (which was not so good). 3/5 Service: Hartley: From the moment I entered this Tavern of the Tawdry I was under the hawk like gaze of ‘Cheryl’, which I have cause to believe is her ‘Public’ persona. She could easily pass for a hottie in the right lighting and with Marmite smeared over the pupils of the observer. She made a half hearted attempt to embarrass Preston at my bidding but came up short. Her ability to understand English was commensurate with her dress sense. Scant. 2/5 Preston: Cheryl did her best, however most of our top-shelf humor went directly over her head. She was pretty hot, but it may have been more a result of shoddy competition. She was fairly attentive, although one of her lackies originally tried to bring us the order and dumped it down the stairs, thus adding precious minutes to the wait. 3/5 Sidearms: Well, Cheryl did successfully manage to bring my bucket o’ beers from the kitchen area safely to our table. On top of that, she used her powers of persuasion to make her cohort have our food re-cooked instead of trying to just pick it up off the ground and serve it to us…although, I think that might only be because we saw the entire thing transpire. 3/5 Ambience: Hartley: I have been fortunate enough to visit the fair Hawaiian Islands. This was such a travesty that I was close to holding my own Luau in protest. Any of many of the Hooters girls could have stood in for the pig. 0/5 Preston: Apparently it was "Hawaiian Day" at this particular Hooters; two of the waitresses were wearing grass-like skirts. Luckily they picked the two with the biggest asses. The rest of the place was run-of-the-mill Hooters -- wood decor, sports themes on the wall, and assorted over-priced merchandise for sale. 2/5 Sidearms: In true island fashion, all you need to host a Hawaiian theme day at a restaurant are a couple of leis and some Don Ho on the jukebox. Oh, and some big fat biker dudes… and some tourists getting their pictures taken with the waitresses…excuse me, “Hooter Girls.” 1/5 Clientele: Hartley: Nothing worse than a RUB (Rich Urban Biker). I’m a poor suburban biker, and I can’t afford $40,000 for a custom Harley. This is a blessing as I’d look less than fetching in a sleeveless denim jacket and a bandana. The three ‘Baggers’ would have set the average IQ up around 150. Add the bikers, tourists and serving wenches and you’re back down around a bad roll on a Vegas Craps table. Why would anyone want their photo taken (Family photo, mind) with a Hooters chick? Seriously…-10/5 Preston: A collection of fat bikers, tourists, and dorks in jean shorts. Nobody goes to Hooters for the food; they either go there because the waitress has to pay attention, or because they're reviewing it for the Internet's top source of entertainment and information. 0/5 Sidearms: Don’t even get me started… 0/5 Employee Wardrobe: Hartley: Everyone has a fashion don’t. Mine is “Leave the hose off when it gets over 75F!”. There must have been enough yeast growing to start an Indie brewery. Oh, and if your ass is wider than your shoulders, wear a full length potato sack. No offense meant, Preston. 1/5 Preston: Obviously the standard white Hooters tank-top and orange shorts...very short shorts. Unfortunately, this did not prove to be too flattering for most of the ladies, something Hartley pointed out roughly 15 times. 1/5 Sidearms: The ancient college football tradition of “Red-Shirting” has transcended the Hooters circuit, as the rookie waitress was the lone Hooter Girl sporting a black work shirt, giving her an added year of Hooter Girl eligibility after she graduates in hopes that she might one day be viewed as attractive by the clientele. 1/5 Hard-Hitting Interview With Cheryl: Hartley: So what's with you lot gang tackling each table full of dorks? Cheryl: Uh, what? Preston: Don't mind him. He's British. Cheryl: Oh, ok. Hartley: No really, you all just gang up on a table. What's the story? Sidearms: What’s the deal with there being carb’s in Preston’s sandwich? Preston: Do you get sick of having dorks as customers? Cheryl: No, it's ok...I mean... Hartley: Who is that girl in the black shirt? You guys are all wearing white. Cheryl: Well, she's training, and we ran out of white shirts Sidearms: Is it just a coincidence she’s not hot? Preston: Do you live around here? Cheryl: Well, I live in Orange County. I go to Junior College Preston: Which one? Cheryl: (Hard to Understand) Junior College. I am going to be a nurse Sidearms: That’s exquisite Final Rating: * ˝ (out of 5) |
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