Hooters Hokey Pokey

Since it was my last week at the coding job (blog post on the new job coming soon), last Thursday my co-workers decided to take me out to lunch. Awwww.

Now, apparently there have been questions in the office about my sexuality, partly due to the fact that I only came out to a select few co-workers, and partly due to the fact that I’m apparently not the most straight-acting gay man on the planet. So, in an attempt to determine my sexuality, my co-workers decided to take me to the restaurant that no gay man finds intriguing (or stimulating).

Hooters.

I suppose they thought that I would be against eating at such an establishment, citing the objectification of the women’s body or some such, and thus confirm my homosexuality. Instead, I was thinking, “mmm, greasy food, bring it on!”

Our waitress was nice, the table conversations were lively, the food was…um…mediocre, but the big moment came when our waitress pulled me from our table to go do the Hooters Hokey Pokey. She had been informed that this lunch was in my honor, and saw it fit to help me celebrate...or rather have me do something embarrassing in a room full of strangers.

And so, with Hokey Pokey music playing, and rather timid, uninterested onlookers forced to observe this display in Hooters culture, I was made to put my “right wing in” (elbow), then my arms, legs, and “whole chicken.” As usual, this dance was punctuated by shaking of aforementioned appendages, tuning myself around, clapping, and proclaiming that “that’s what it’s all about.” Hilarious.

My co-workers were impressed with my “being a good sport.” I’m impressed that I’ve now been to Hooters.

sidenote: The employees actually called the dance the "Hooters Pokey" to fit into the flow of the song. I refrained from refering to it as such, because poking a hooter just sounds wrong. ha ha.