Drunken Rants: The Hooters Story

[Editor's Note: Beefybooyawn has been a friend of mine for the last few years.  We went to the same trade school and even worked together for a while as well.  He is a published author and was recently Freshly Pressed.  In short, he stooped pretty low to post here, but he's a nice guy and that's how he rolls.  Once you're finished reading this Unshitty™ story, please take a virtual journey over to Beefy's House and check out his Unshitty™ stuph.] Normally I do the Drunken Rants on my site, but I'm feeling limber and decided to type one up here for you to enjoy. You know, since the daddy of twin's has been so gracious as to use up some of his free blogging space in favor of the shit I have to say. Now you may be wondering if I'm drunk, seeing as how I speak somewhat awesomely. Well, I'm sort of a stickler with what I type. Chances are there will not be many errors in what I type because I'm constantly editing as I write. Even when drunk. Which for me hasn't happened too much lately because I'm a 33 year old with a failing liver. That's what happens when you drink like a fish from the age of 5.

Just for fun I’ll do this paragraph without editing. Sometimesnm atha thksk athat I’m the shitls. Back to editing, holy shit. I’m worse off than I thought.

I’ve spent a lot of my time drunk (although I’m not an alcoholic, there is a difference) and some pretty crazy things have happened while being that way. Being drunk. As in doing drunk. I’m doing drunk right now. I’m not doing A drunk, I’m just doing drunk. I am BEING drunk.

One of my craziest stories happened years ago during a friends birthday. He was turning 21. Which would have made me 22 and this story 11 years old now. I’ll call him Greg, cause that’s his name. Ryan, Greg and I went out that night on his birthday to Hooters. We were accompanied… company… we had two others with us, Greg’s woman Emily and Ryan’s woman Theresa. Ryan and I were both of legal age to drink and so now was Greg. The women were not and were our designated sober people.

The particular Hooters we stopped at is on the Ohio River on the Kentucky side, the very same Hooters Twindaddy had his last birthday party at, to which I attended because that’s how Unshitty™ I am.

Outside of this Hooters is a dock and on the other side of the dock is a giant bar. Drunk people make their way from one to the other on popular drinking nights, such as every night.

This night was no different. We started off by drinking. The three of us got a pitcher and we consumed them. Then we ordered more and consumed that. By this point I decided to go outside and get some fresh air. The kind of fresh air that the general Cincinnati area provides, which is just slightly more cancerous than smoking. Which is why I smoke, you know, to treat my lungs with good stuff every once in a while.

On the dock between the two establishments is a stage where many bands perform from time to time, regardless if they’re talented or not. On this particular night there were no bands, but when I stepped out I saw a woman on the stage with a man standing in front of it watching her. She was dancing and laughing and he was cheering her on. When she was done I applauded, got both of their attention, and we began to talk. As it turned out, they were out drinking because it was a night out for them. They were a very cool older couple (probably my age now) and they decided to have a seat next to us.

Once we all went back in to Hooters, the man decided to use the bathroom. I stood talking to the woman and she pulled a cigarette out and looked at it, studied it, as if it were some complex puzzle. She then asked for a light and I gave her one.

The man came back out of the bathroom and told me how she hadn’t smoked in ten years. I then apologized for giving her the light, feeling as if I had contributed to something horrible. They told me how it was her birthday and how she wanted to have a smoke for the first time in 10 years, so it was all good. We found our seats.

Our waitress continued to bring us pitcher after pitcher. Eventually we decided to order food. Greg got up and went to the bathroom.

Our waitress continued to come to our table and serve us, but every time she came to the table she was more and more tipsy. It turned out that her customers were buying her shots all night and she was plastered.

Greg comes back from the bathroom and tells us of some dude in there who asked him where Newport On The Levy was. For those of you not in the know, Newport On The Levy, or NOTL (not to be mistaken for NKOTB or LOTR) for short is right up the road from this Hooters. You can fucking see it from there. You can damn near see it from Michigan. So this guy in the bathroom asked for directions and that was it. Just a passing conversation. Greg was simply giving us the 411 on what happened to him in the bathroom. Guys do this. It’s our nature.

“Hey man, just took a piss.”
“Yeah? What was it like?”

We continued to drink. Our food came out. We got two ten piece wings and some fries. That was our order. For the entire night we ordered many pitchers of beer and two ten piece orders of wings with some fries. I tell you this for a reason.

After we consume deliciously fried food I had to piss. So I went to the bathroom and there was one other guy in there, standing at the sink. I turned my back to him and began pissing in the urinal. I noticed in my drunken stupor that he was mumbling to himself, but I made no deal of it. I was, after all, in the basic downtown area of Cincinnati, albeit on the Kentucky side of the river, and these kinds of people occasionally make their way out to the general public. It happens.

Well, when I was done pissing I went to the sink to wash my hands and was standing next to the guy. He asked me if I knew where Newport On The Levy was. I explained to him how to get there. It went something like this.

“Go down the road.”

He told me of a club there that he wanted to go to and he asked me if I wanted to go with him.

The guy was gay and trying to pick up a date to a gay bar in the men’s bathroom at Hooters. Seriously.

I told him no and went back to my table. It was then that I realized it was the same dude from before when Greg went to the bathroom, and this took place a half hour after his incident. That guy had been standing in that bathroom for a half a fucking hour trying to pick up a date. WOW.

The chick and her husband next to us finished their meal and were leaving. She decided she didn’t want the smokes after all and gave them to me. A complete pack sans one cigarette. That saved me five bucks, awesome.

A short while later our waitress was sloshing around the place and making no sense when she spoke. We asked her to get us our check. Quite a while later she returned with our check and we looked at it. To our delight the bill was just over $400.

I decide to go to the bathroom.

Now let me describe the bathroom for you. I don’t know what the women’s looks like, but I’m sure they have more privacy than the men’s room does.

When you open the door you’re looking at the sinks and the stall. To your immediate right are two urinals. As a matter of fact if you’re standing at the one urinal right next to the door and someone opens the door, you can look out into the restaurant from the urinal through the door. NO privacy.

Also above that particular urinal is a vending machine attached to the wall where you can get a plethora of awesome things, from Aspirin to condoms.

And this was the particular urinal I decided to use, for no reason whatsoever.

I was alone in the restroom when all of a sudden the door opens and someone peaks in. Since I’m at THAT urinal I kept my eyes straight ahead and didn’t notice who it had been. The door shuts. I hear people talking outside.

The door opens again and a middle aged woman enters followed by her husband. I give her a look as I’m shocked at what is going on. She looks down at my piece and says “Nothing I haven’t seen before honey.”

Behind me, the two shuffle through pockets and speak to each other. I’m not catching anything they’re saying, but I’m still pissing hard. I had a lot to drink.

Suddenly the woman reaches over my shoulder and puts money into the vending machine. She selects a condom and collects her purchase from the little dispenser at the bottom of the machine. She continues to pump money into it and pull out condoms. Like a dozen of them.

Finally I finish up and let them continue to get their condoms. I wash my hands. They begin to leave the restroom just as I’m ready to leave, so I walk out with them and into a circle of about 20 middle aged people, ten couples or so, and they’re all dressed up nicely. The lady from the bathroom starts handing out condoms to them.

Yup, they’re about to go have a fucking orgy.

The lady dispenses all of the condoms and has one left over. She turns around to me and hands it to me. We all begin walking out of the restaurant, their group totally into me joining them when I was easily half the youngest couples age. Just as we get to the door my friends call me over to the table to discuss the bill. In my drunken state I forgot about the orgy and went back to my friends.

I still kick myself in the ass over that one.

The waitress was trying to sit on a stool at a table behind ours and she kept falling onto the floor. Her manager, who was easily younger than me, kept trying to tell us that she would be dealt with, but I kept insisting that for our entertainment we should get to see her fired right there. He wouldn’t do it.

As it turned out, she had printed out the employee meal’s list for the week instead of our bill. Once our bill was found and given to us, we gathered up our money sans a tip and handed it to the waitress. It was correct change with like a dollar tip.

She shuffled through her fanny pack and found a five dollar bill and handed it to Ryan saying, “Is this right?” He said “yup,” grabbed the five and we left.

The rest of the night is a blur as we stopped at another bar and I finished my night sitting in the back of a Ford Ranger in a field while it rained on me while I drank a bottle of Wild Irish Rose, because I didn’t give a fuck.

That was my night. And all of this is 100% true. Sometimes I miss those days. But I can’t afford to go out and drink like that anymore, especially with my liver. So every now and then I’ll have a few drinks and I’m starting to notice that my tolerance has hit an all-time low, which makes me a cheap drunk once again. Awesome.

So dear reader, what is one of the craziest things that has happened to you while drinking?

Now I’m going to go finish my six pack of 5.9% ALC/VOL beer and go to bed a sloppy mess. For my next article here (if Twindaddy will have me back after this shit) remind me to drunkenly tell you of when I almost fell off a mountain in Kentucky while drunk one night, or when I drank so much moonshine I blacked out and apparently went to a strip club. Or even of the time when… never mind. I got plenty.

Other posts from Beefybooyawn:

About Twindaddy (337 Articles)
Sometimes funny. Sometimes serious. Always genuine.

25 Comments on Drunken Rants: The Hooters Story

  1. Yeah! I liked my own post! I’m so awesome that I had no choice.


  2. *sings* oh what a night…oh what a night!


  3. Hilarious work, beefybooyawn!


  4. Not the “best,” but one of my favorites – I was 16 and headed off to visit my older brother at college. I walk through the front door and one of his roommates parents hands me a beer… it all got a bit fuzzy after that for a time.


  5. Back in my “glory days” I went out on the town weekly and did it just like any other good ‘ol Irish boy would. I never cared too much about whether or not I would land a pretty lady but I made sure to have a blast with my friends. I do not drink even fraction of what I did in those days but then again I was also drinking guys twice my size under the table.


    • Nice. Strange how that sort of becomes a trophy, eh? I used to love the fact that I could out drink all of my friends. Until it got to where I would be the only one awake at a party drinking by myself lol.


  6. Well, I hope you do come back to tell another tale of your drinking escapades!! I too, don’t drink like I used to, but I’m also an addict in recovery. Not from alcohol, the harder stuff, but in recovery none the less. Somehow, I never had a problem with the sauce, despite all rules in recovery that tell me if I’m addicted to one thing, I have a problem with all mind altering substances. I strongly disagree. To date, I also have a low tolerance of booze, so we also have that in common. I’m also in my thirties, so I relate to your stories of ‘back in the day’ … I really enjoyed this! Great night cap! I will look for your next piece. You have a great flow in your writing! ~ Jen


3 Trackbacks / Pingbacks

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