I have a story to tell on myself.  When I was a working guy, my work decided I needed to go to Denver for some training in the world of Contracting for Federal Government Contracts.  It was a week long course with about 30 students in the class.  I learned quite a bit while attending the class and got a lot of insight from some of the other students, as not all were U.S. Govt. employees.  But that is not my story here.

The class was held very close to downtown Denver and of course my Hotel was right close by as well.  The class would end around 4 p.m. each day and we would all go our separate ways to our hotels to freshen up after a grueling day in class.  My hotel had a “happy hour” that started about 4:30 and went until 7 p.m. everyday.  Free beer, free food, free everything.  I partook.

The class folks would set a time and place for us all to gather and have a drink or two and eat some dinner.  Each night was a different establishment near downtown and it was a great thing to do.  Every restaurant was a different theme and served different foods.  We had fun getting to know each other and our diverse backgrounds.  Well the Thursday night of the week, we decided to meet a Hooters and enjoy the evening.

I had a few rounds at the hotel after I freshened up and walked over to Hooters.  Now, if you are not familiar with Hooters, they are an eatery with very good American food, cold drinks of any kind you want and the waitresses, well let’s just say they are showy.  Oh, and friendly.  I’m sure it helps with them getting tips for their work.

I arrived at Hooters and was second to get there.  I joined one of the other men in the class and he was already on his second or fifth drink.  I ordered up a beer and we sat discussing the class lessons and the fact that the next day (Friday) we would all be going home.  Soon, the rest of the class showed up and we were occupying 5 or 6 tables in a place that might have had 15 tables.  The front doors of this particular Hooters opened up like a large garage door and gave access to the sidewalk in front of the place.  More tables were put out there and the place was full of patrons.

This was a summer time training session and the weather outside was beautiful.  Not too hot and not too cold.  The evening was long on sun and being as it was downtown, every establishment was booming.  And every establishment was trying to get your business.  There were bands, acting mimes, panhandlers of all sorts, most of whom were very good at what they did.  There were singers and comedians etc.  The entire downtown was alive with activity and it was a fun place to be.

About 9 or so in the evening, after we had all eaten and were sitting around continuing to socialize and drink our cold drinks, Hooters brought in a band.  The band set up just outside on the sidewalk and they started playing nothing but Creedence Clearwater Revival songs!  MY FAVORITE!  If you want me to get up and dance, give me about five beers and start playing “Willie and the Poor Boys”….I just have to play!

There is was.  “Down on the Corner, Out in the Street, Willie and the Poor Boys are Playing….”  I jumped up and asked the waitress if she would like to dance.  She put down her empty tray and out we went….the only two cutting the rug outside Hooters.  Spinning around, kicking up the legs…fun, fun, fun….

Suddenly a large hand crasped my right shoulder, very close to my neck and the hand was not a gentle hand, but one that rather squose  hard.  Hard enough to get my attention very quickly.  I stopped my dancing and so did the waitress, and the booming voice behind my right ear asked “Are you finished with your drink sir”?  I squeekily said, “No”.  And then the booming voice said, “Please sir, kindly go back to your seat and finish your drink and then quietly remove yourself from this establishment.  We do NOT have a cabaret license!”

I saw the man who had the booming voice once he let go of my shoulder and he was quite a large fellow indeed.  I went back to my seat and quietly finished my beer and then excused myself from the place and told my class mate friends that I had to go back to my hotel room and study for the next day’s exam.

What was sad, was that the booming voice guy escorted the young lady to somewhere in the back of the establishment….I probably cost her her job.  Lady, if you are reading this I am truly sorry.

I’m probably not the first nor the last, but I am the only one I know who has ever been kicked out of a Hooters.

Bears Butt

Nov. 2011