Expectations

When I lived in Dallas, I knew a guy who told me that he had gotten friendly with a woman who lived near his apartment. They'd go out once in a while for a shared dinner, things like that. One week he suggested that they go out to see the Cowboys play that weekend. She said she couldn't, because she'd be working. He was surprised, because he knew that she worked during the week. It's a part-time job, she said. Doing what? he asked. She hesitated, and finally said that she was a cheerleader at football games. In fact, she said, I'll be at that game. He stared at her. You're a cheerleader for -- Yes, she said. The Dallas Cowboys. He said he was startled. The Dallas Cowboys? Yep. But, he said, you look so - normal! She laughed. On the field, she said, I look a little different.

This afternoon, after running some errands, we were casting about for a place to have lunch, and I suggested the local branch of the Hooters chain. Truth to tell, what I'd heard about Hooters (besides the obvious) was that the food there was pretty good. Turned out it wasn't -- my burger was burned, and my wife's wings were not too tasty -- but the other thing I'd heard certainly was -- there was a lot of cleavage, all over the place, coupled with what appeared to be a strong reluctance to bend over. I thought about it while I gnawed at the burger. If I'd seen most any of those women on the street, I wouldn't have looked twice -- they'd have looked just like normal people. It was when they were on display that they looked a little different.

I really would have liked the chance to talk to some of them, just to see what they were actually like, but I have a feeling that's one of the oldest come-on lines in the book.