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Please note the expression of the blonde on the left. (Full size original)
I was recently in Graz playing around with some Garmin navigators, and when I searched its restaurant directory I noticed that there was an “American” category. I was curious what that would include and laughed heartily when the first result to pop up was Hooters.
For most people the place needs no introduction. Some Slovenes may not know it (the country doesn’t have one yet) in which case it’s essential that you brush up with the aid of Črni’s definitive guide. In short, it could easily be the most undignified place to eat a meal on the planet. Even worse than Arby’s.
You know how cars have odometers? You know how you can push a button and the distance you’ve traveled resets to zero? Well, that’s what happens to your dignity when you eat at Hooters. All your achievements, accomplishments, hopes and pride are instantly rolled back to zero the minute you hear the words “Welcome to Hooters.”
Needless to say, I’m planning on taking a Slovenian friend of mine there in the immediate future. He’s got a bit too much dignity for my tastes, and I have next to none, so we’re good and ready to go.
But to be honest, I’m just interested in the buffalo wings — which is, of course, what every guy who goes to Hooters says. The difference is that I’m the first guy in the history of homo sapiens sapiens to actually mean it. See, I love buffalo wings, and have been denied them for years now. Desperate times call for desperate measures, and nothing’s more desperate than going to Hooters to eat a meal.
I suppose I’m also indebted to Hooters Graz because of the wonderful laugh their official site gave me. Just look at this picture they posted of a happy girl whose gentleman boyfriend took her to Hooters. Her expression sums everything up so perfectly that it hurts.
Hooters here I come!
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I find it quite funny that they are called BUFFALO wings, when they’re not from buffalo meat.
Now I’ve read an explanation but I still have to laugh at the idea of a huge buffalo WING, lying on a plate and covering half of the table: 
P.S. I’m glad you found some food in the vicinity.
“Airbags” can’t hurt either. 
Hoot hoot!
God I wish we had Hooters here… And that student “cupons” would be available!
Hey, I’ve been there!
It was a couple of years ago when my dad and I got lost in Graz searching for the Metro outlet… We went in there for a cup of coffee and directions (no buffalo wings, though) and my bad German got even worse by my mouht going “Entschuldigund, wo ist hier das Metro?” and by brain going “Tits… Tits… Tits…” 
Had no idea Arby’s had that bad a rep, but will confirm my one-time experience keeps in line with it.
BTW, is there an establishment similar to Hooters that’s geared toward the female population?
Dober tek!
What’s truly sad is that the airline, Hooters Air, failed to “take off”. I guess that, since the other airlines have removed all dignity from air travel, there’s just no niche for Hooters Air to fill.
I’ll be curious to see how the virus and nomenclature conundrum that is “buffalo wings” will spread across Europe.
@Sunshine:
thank god, real buffalo wings don’t exist. It’s unpleasant enough if pigeons “unload themselves” above buildings and people. But imagine being hit by a buffalo… Anyway, I agree that the name “buffalo wings” is kind of funny…
@Pengovsky:
Hmm, sounds like a restaurant tip for Fridays..
@ Dietmar: Wow, I stopped at the idea of fried buffalo “wings” carried by a mini bulldozer, served on a table-tennis sized table and cut with a machete. The idea of buffaloes unloading themselves in the air above people is just… hmmm… horrifying. You’re crazy!
@Sunshine: Your conclusion keeps coming to my mind very often, especially when I’m trying to deal with Slovene Grammar
- Hey, I never said, I’m normal 
I can remember, that they serve huge portions of dinosaur ribs in every Flintstones episode. At the end, I think. This would be the equivalent to buffalo wings
Vienna branch office of the company I work for issues lunch coupons to the employees working there. The coupons are valid in a handful of restaurants in the area - the list includes, uhm, Hooters.
Michael,
True story, this.
A friend of ours was coming back on a Sunday night from a Delware beach town with her family. It was an agonizing hot day and the family van’s air conditioning was on the blink. She, along with her husband, her 8 yr. old daughter and 4 yr. old son were in the early grips of brain radiator overheating. She scanned the eateries on the way home for any places that seemed less full and without any waiting lines. What was the point to try to get into an a/c restaurant and have to wait outside in the gruesome heat for an hour?
Let me note that this friend is quite the proper British woman and her husband quite the…uhmmm American guy. She finally saw a place with no lines and ordered her husband to swerve in. He couldn’t believe his luck! Hooters!.
Just to make sure his wife hadn’t succumbed to heat stroke, he asked, “Are you sure you want to come here?” Her daughter was horrified; this ran contrary to all of her mother’s daily reminders of what it was to be a girl/woman in the US of A. Her son was too exhausted to notice or care.
Yet.
They went inside and were immediately seated in the “family” area. Our friend went to the bathroom to freshen up and to, unintentionally, overhear the following.
“So, do you like them?”
“Well, it’s only been a week so I’m not sure. He sure seems to like them. He’s not putting in as much overtime at the Lowes since I got ‘em.”
“Well, that’s something positive.”
“Yeah, and my tips have been bigger as well in the past week.”
Our friend came out of the bathroom and glanced over at the two women before she went back to her seat.
Hooters waitresses.
She wondered if she’d made a really big mistake that would affect the kids.
One of the two waitresses came to their table. She wasn’t sure which one as they were both gifted with le monde au balcon.
“So, what do you folks want to drink?”
Our friend’s son, still obviously hanging on to early childhood memories, stared at the waitress and then at his mom.
“O.K. Mom. I’ll stay here and eat but I’m not drinking any milk here!”
So, anytime we pass by one of these fine establishments we wonder if any milk-drinkers have been forced against their will to come there….
….or if they are ecstatically reminiscing of their breast-fed days?
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Vienna branch office of the company I work for issues lunch coupons to the employees working there. The coupons are valid in a handful of restaurants in the area - the list includes, uhm, Hooters.————unquote
I would have hated my last corpland jobs a LOT less if I could have had that perk!
@Darko That is one of the funniest stories I’ve heard in a long time!
This reminds me of my first - and only - visit to the USA thirteen years ago, when, on the final stretch of my journey, I was cooped up in a Motel 6 in Nashville ,TN, Music City USA (at least, that’s what they called it at the Airport :P), which had a Hooters right across. Brought up on a steady diet of Married With Children in the previous years, I already knew about Hooters. Imagine my surprise when on Saturday night, a bunch of pickups parked there (no surprise there) and coming out, I saw some fine species of Redneck, decked out with all the cliché trimmings : Stetson, giant belt buckle, stone washed jeans, a cowboy duster jacket that would make Keanu ‘Neo’ Reeves red with envy and shitkicker boots… And their permantented fake blonde girlfriends at their side, dressed up in mucht the same for a night out at Hooters. The thing even had a hog fighting pit! From behind my motel room window, I watched this display of American clichédom transpire before my eyes and roll over with laughter for a couple of minutes afterwards.
To be fair : I’ve never been made to feel more welcome than in Nashville. The people there were extremely friendly and helpful to me, but that scene at Hooters was just a bit too much of a funny thing to pass up…
I believe Buffalo Wings are named after the city of Buffalo, New York, not the animal. Although I do have a nice recipe for buffalo chili (the animal, not the city
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Buffalo_wings
@ Joe: Yes, we’ve figured that out already.
But it’s a funny phrase nevertheless, especially if you visualize it. 