Sometimes I get the urge to be an American cowgirl. I don't get this feeling often but when I do it leads me to intense cravings for country music, bottled beer, guacamole, buffalo wings, tacky décor, staff with badges and an overall yee-ha time that's based more on novelty fun than quality.

In the city there are only a surprisingly few amount of eating establishments that meet this specific criteria. I chose the one I believed would offer the most amount of yee-ha - Hard Rock Café on Crown Street (admittedly they focus more on "rock" than "cow" but I was still confident that my craving would be satisfied).

We entered the not-quite-fitting-but-wonderfully-cheesy "golden" turn doors and were greeted by a pregnant lady. The pregnant lady kindly advised us that the tables weren't ready just yet and would we mind waiting at the bar for five minutes.

Although there was no one else at a dining table (and I had previously confirmed via telephone that the kitchen was well and truly ready and opened for dinner) we sat at the bar and ordered some beer (one can only assume that was the pregnant lady's intention). The bar man wasn't as cheerful and fake as I hoped he would be but the look of the place was tacky enough to get me excited.

Until I saw more and more people enter and be seated at a booth.

I began to question the pregnant lady's intentions.

I asked the bar man why we were told to wait when others were being shown to tables. He matter-of-factly replied that other people had made bookings...to which I matter-of-factly said that that couldn't possibly be true because I had called just before coming and was told (probably by him) that no bookings were needed unless there were more than seven people.

He went to the pregnant lady and they whispered for a while until he finally returned and showed us to our booth. No apology or explanation was offered so being the optimist I am, was left to assume that the only reason why we were asked to sit by the bar was because we were so attractive and they were hoping to encourage by-passers to enter by showing off such beauty.

My mood picked up again when I saw the menu and excitedly ordered spicy chicken wings and beef fajitas off an overly bubbly high pony-tailed blonde in a short dress, apron and white runners (at last the cowgirl in me was finding the chance to escape). Taking swigs from my beer I let myself get carried away with the theme of the place and could even visualise myself in a Pulp Fiction scene ordering a $5 shake from a similar American-based cheesy restaurant.

But I got let down. The food definitely fit the craving and was reasonably tasty (although they served me chicken fajita rather than beef)...but it was served too quickly and was not accompanied with the theatrical gusto I yearned for. It was almost as though they didn't realise I had come there to be entertained.

I don't think any diner goes to a place like Hard Rock Café for the quality of food or to have a pleasant dining experience. Those that truly value dining are those prepared to not take it too seriously. We go there because we want tacky décor, we want to see cheesy staff and ridiculous uniforms, we want to have fun over fried food and yes - every now and then, we definitely want to be a cowgirl and scream yee-haaaaaa!!!!!!!!!!!

Some come ya'll...help keep the spirit alive!