Getting Our Kicks at Trader Vic'sBefore we left for England, I had made an announcement that I was going to be drunk off my ass the entire time we were there. Now this wasn't entirely serious, but I figured I would have to whoop it up at least a couple of times. However, for the first week we were there, instead of getting drunk I just ended up getting sick and getting a rash. So when the last couple nights rolled around, we decided we had to do some partyin' (in our own retarded and pathetic way), so we headed to Trader Vic's, the famed tiki bar of yore. Even though there is a Trader Vic's in Emeryville CA, right next to Berkeley where we grew up, I'd never been to one before, so we merrily went out to experience the London tiki bar scene! Trader Vic's of London is in a fancy hotel. Right outside the door was this great big carved tiki god thing. We got excited when we saw it. (I got a little too excited when I saw it on the way out, but I'll get to that later.) We descended the stairs to the bar and got a table. To be honest, it was a little disappointing at first. Nothing in the bar measured up to the grandeur of the outside tiki dude. However, there was fish-netting on the ceiling, along with quite the array of puffed-up dried-out blowfishes, and we could see some cool tiki mugs behind the bar (though most patrons had drinks in relatively plain glasses). I was happy to see what looked like the original menu still in use! All kinds of great drinks were listed, with cool names like Rhum Congo and Menehune Punch, and uninformative yet somehow evocative descriptions. We ordered a round (all of us cracking up repeatedly at the fact that Lily, not yet 21, could order her own drinks here) and they were rather tasty (except Lily got stuck with the dud drink and I think she made Amy switch with her). For Round 2 we decided to order different drinks and here's where things get wacky. Lily wisely went for one of the "lighter on the booze" choices (which I've forgotten the name of), I decided I needed to get the Samoan Fog Cutter, and Amy ordered the drink with the best name of the bunch, and quite possibly the best name for a drink of all time: Dr. Funk of Tahiti. Now I think when Amy ordered her drink, she got a little chicken and just asked for a Dr. Funk. This caused the waitress to ask, "Dr. Funk Tahiti?" I really wanted to chime in with some wise-ass remark like "No, Dr. Funk of Kentucky!" but Amy just nodded her head. To be fair, there was another relation of Dr. Funk on the drink menu—something like Son of Dr. Funk or Dr. Funk Jr.—so I guess there was a little room for confusion. When our drinks came, we were pretty happy. Mine came in a glass that was about 15 inches tall, with a tropical menage a trois ceramic relief on the side. (Well, just two tropical gals and a tropical guy hanging out in some tropical setting, but I figured there was something going on there.) Dr. Funk was in an unremarkable glass. I think the drink itself was pink, with some kind of juices, rum, and Pernod. The overall taste, I'm pleased to report, was a bit funky! But not too funky to keep her from having another go-round with the good doctor. By the time Amy had double-Dr. Funked and I had polished off the never-ending, bigger-than-my-head Fog Cutter, we were feeling pretty good. The night takes on a bit of a blurry quality in my mind, though I remember getting up to go to the ladies' room, and on the way, stopping and standing for a good solid minute or so in back of the musician guy they had playing (swank yet unremarkable), waiting for Lily and Amy to look up and notice so I could make some googly face. They never did look at me, but just about everyone else sure did. Luckily by then I was beyond the point of caring whether I looked like an ass. I also remember two skanky business dudes leering over at our table once in a while, though thankfully they let us be. And of course, how could I forget the words uttered by Amy at least every five or ten minutes: "Hey, I'm not feeling so well ... I think I need a doctor ... yep ... a doctor ....... Dr. Funk! Of Tahiti!!" On our way out we took pictures with the tiki guy outside. (Now you can see what I mean about getting overly excited.*) We had a quick subway ride home and I'm pretty sure we hit the sack soon after getting back to the hotel. There are a bunch of extremely boring and blurred subway pictures that showed up on our film that were surely taken under the influence of too much rum. All in all Trader Vic's was lots of fun, though I'm sure it was way more glorious back in the day ... still recommended for a little dose of tikiness and rum if you're in London or anywhere that still boasts one! (Especially if you need a doctor....) * To see the evidence of me groping the wooden tiki god, you'll have to order the zine from Lily.
Spider Stompin' zine, 1999 Spider Stompin' is published by Lily Boe. |