| Hooters of Riverwalk |
849 E. Commerce Street
$3.35 – $4.99
Her name, I overhear, is Jordan and this page can’t accommodate the superstring of o’s required to describe accurately how sooo out of my league this Hooters bartender is. I’ll estimate So x19, because she can’t be much older than that.
This is my first weekend in San Antonio as the freshly imported staff writer for the Current. Surely, that should give me some sort of bachelor cred, but somehow, in the radiance of her Perf-10 majesty, I can barely order without stuttering.
She’s in the standard uniform for Hooters’ female staff: White sneakers with puffy Japanese kogeru socks; tan tights leading up to the adorable dewlaps of the lower buttocks, bared by orange daisy dukes; the fitted tank top with “Delightfully Tacky, Yet Unrefined” on the back. As for the front: The next time I watch Weird Science, Kelly LeBrock’s technology will seem ridiculously dated.
Me? I’m sockless, in stained cargo shorts and a faded anti-government T-shirt. Until I move out of the hostel to someplace with a washer, I’m saving my non-grubbies for work.
It’s not easy being new. Vehicle-less, my recreational world is limited to the River Walk. My only friend in the city is the lovely Belle who sells tickets at the Rivercenter AMC, where I’ve killed nine full hours of my first lonely weekend. What else is a newly imported Current writer to do? Answer: Write a Bar Tab on the place downstairs.
I’m not sure what bars we’ve already covered, but one thing is deducible: My co-workers wouldn’t have touched Hooters with a 20-foot straw. Onto the reviewing:
Food/Drink: Buffalo wings and beer go together like tits ‘n’ ass (if only the Current had the budget to fund an analogy for Hooters’ $199.99 special – 20 wings and a bottle of Dom Perignon). Get your wings “naked,” not battered; and if you like medium-spicy wings, order ‘em hot. They offer hard liquor, but the selection’s limited. Stick with domestic bottles ($2 on Sundays). If you order a Guinness, it’ll be tough to discern the widget from the chunks of ice.
Ambience: All the sports you need on a dozen or so televisions. Of course, when a waitress overturns a stool and rides it like a bronco, you could care less about Fox Sports pundits discussing Chris Simms’s spleen.
Service: A regular who brings the waitresses chocolate tells me the two hottest aren’t working tonight. So, it can only get better.