Day 1: Trader Vic's, Emeryville
You can't have a crawl without a stop at Vic's, and this was a very special Vic's, as it is one my mom went to when she was in town on holidays back in the swingin' 70's. I dont think, 30 years later, I got up to half as many shenanigans as she did that night, but no matter. We were just warming up, after all. The TikiCentralites were located in the Puka room, overlooking the water. We immediately went to work on the cocktail menu, trying to try as many of the drinks as possible, and passing them around the table for all to try. My favourite drink by name, hands down, was the enigmatic Dr. Funk of Tahiti. Who was Doctor Funk? And was he licenced to practice in the state of California? No matter, he managed to medicate the crowd quite nicely. I got something in a coconut mug I got to keep, so all was good with me. The food was a bit pricey for what we got, as I had heard, but no matter as it was really the decor I came for. I wish I had gotten a picture of the portrait of Trader Vic in the lobby done up in wee mosaic tiles. But I did manage to snap the Leeteg beside what I assume is a bust of Mr. Bergeron himself. Later, as we were heading out, we wandered into the other rooms to check out the decor. There seemed to be an endless amount of rooms, all filled with dark and mysterious tikis. Bliss!
Mr. & Mrs. Smiley's House
After Vic's, we were all invited back to the fabulous abode of Bruce and Enid, aka the Smileys. I had seen it on TV before, on one of those shows - The Incurable Collector or something. The show did not do it justice! Their collection of Tikis, Smiley Faces, and Sock Monkeys have to be seen in person to be believed. The funky rum punch was brough out and served up in mugs, and we all retired to the basement for a little ukulele and some hula dancing. Or should i say, I watched the hula dancing. I'm too uncoordinated to hula myself. I believe the highlight of the evening, next to the house, the backyard volcano, and the goats in the backyard (yes! goats! to cut the grass!) was seeing Sweetpea's Hillbilly Hula Gal tattoo. Nothing like a little ass-flashing to round out your friday night.
Day 2: The Tonga Room
Undeniably one of the best looking tiki joints I've ever seen, the Tonga Room is located in the basement of the super-swank Fairmont Hotel. We were among the first to arrive, making us the first people (but not the last) to be rudely dissed by the maitre'd. I had flashbacks to last year's brief trip to the Tonga Room, when I was also dissed, probably by the same jackass. You can't sit here, you can't sit there, you can't save a chair, you can't reserve a table, you gotta pay an entertainment charge, you can't stand up at the bar, ad nauseum. Eventually there was a big lineup too, so I think some of the tiki crawl folks didn't even get in. Luckily, we were able to sneak our fabulous (but late) host Glenn in the side door by meeting him out there, sticking Blaine's "Hello My Name Is" sticker on him, and pretending he had already gotten in earlier. In contrast with the stinginess of the managers, the bartenders were first rate, and served up some smokin' cocktails. In big-ass bowls, in frozen pineapples, and in your face, my friends. If you've never been to the Tonga Room, it is a must see. Dark mood lighting, a huge pool in the middle of the room, spontaneous rainshowers, the rigging off an old schooner as decor, and copious amounts of tikis. Watch for the businessmen taking their mistresses out for a night on the town, and try to avoid the groups of 13 year old girls out for a birthday dinner with daddy. Check out their website for more pictures.
The Bamboo Hut
Then it was on to the Bamboo Hut. It had been reserved for a birthday party before we got there, and we seem to have walked in to the middle of frat party 2002. Lots of goofy 80's music, leftover cake, and some cameras left on the table, which Cynfulcynner absconded and started taking pictures of us with. Somebody's gonna be pissed when they leave the Fotomat tomorrow! Anyway, it took us ages to get a drink cause of the crowds, but once we eventually managed, they were good. No tiki mugs, but some were served in what seemed to be the cup of a well-proportioned coconut bra. It was pretty hard to take pictures in the sardine-packed room, but we returned another day (for someone else's birthday!), where I got some better shots of the decor. The highlight of the room is a giant 6 foot (or bigger) tiki head on the wall. The rest of the place is pretty low key tiki- a few blowfish lamps, masks, thatching, etc. Which, in Toronto, would be considered the height of tiki-dom, but i had already been spoiled by the Tonga Room, Vic's and Smiley's. Mad props to the bartender set us up with some gratis cocktails the second night out, but only after he made my fellow Canadian friend Alexis and I say "oot and aboot" a few times.
Trad'r Sam's
Trad'r Sams! What can I say. A bit out of the way, but worth it, if dive tiki joints are your thing. But divey in a good way. We get to the door, and after seeing our Ontario I.D., were asked 'Are you the Barenaked Ladies?' Not yet, but we will be soon! I replied. Here too we were packed in like sweaty commuters on a Tokyo bullet train. The drinks were served in giant plastic bowls (kind of like oversized Gladware) and I soon saw why - anything that was glass was smashed in about 30 seconds, mostly by the Ritalin-deficient bartender. He gave you whatever he felt like making you , usually punctuated with the word "FUCK!". Every booth had a name over it - the Samoa booth, the Hawaii Booth, the Kauai booth, or what have you. I guess that's what you do if you don't have Trader Vic's decorating budget. You don't name the rooms, you name the booths. Because it was so packed, we couldn't really keep the crowd together, so I mostly hung with Mig, Tikidaddy, Hanford and Martin, sucking back those bowls. Mig had something called a goldfish bowl, which was pretty much as it sounds - a giant goldfish bowl filled with some neon pink juice, ice cream, and enough liquor to kill a small goat. Eventually, the bartender yelled out "WHERE ARE THE CANADIANS?" and when we presented ourselves, he took one look at us and said "NOW WHAT THE FUCK AM I GONNA DO TO YOU?" He settled on 2 honking shots of Bacardi Limon, for no apparent reason. Limon being an ex-client of mine, I knew what I was up against, and I also knew I had to shoot that puppy down without a grimace, as everyone was watching and I had to represent my people in some sort of bizarre macho Canada vs. the US rum sparring match. I'm happy to report both Alexis and I managed to bottoms up and slam down the shot glass without hurling. On any other day I might have. there must have been magic in the air that night. Dirty, nasty, divey magic. Either that, or the Tiki Gods were smiling on all of us. Cheers to the organizers all involved for a fantastic time, and I'll see you all next year for the 3rd annual San Francisco Tiki Crawl!
