Tiki Crawl V pics - California Events

STCB Sabu The Coconut Boy Tiki Socialite Carson, California Joined: Aug 20, 2002 Posts: 2807	STCB Sabu The Coconut Boy Posted posted on Tue, Apr 5, 2005 5:34 PM Words fail me when trying to describe the great time I had at the 2005 SF Crawl. So I'm going borrow some words from my copy of "The Shore Fishes of the Hawaiian Islands, with a General Account of the Fish Fauna", by David Starr Jordan and Barton Warren Evermann. Bulletin of the United States Fish Commission, Vol. XXIII, for 1903 to help me out. First of all, big Oopuka-Hai-Hais to Martin, Rebecca, Hanford and Mig for all the work they put into making this such a polished, fun event. And Hanford's bus-driving skills were truly Akilolo, but you probably already know that. The drive North in the Monkey Bus with Monkeyman, Virani, and his wife, Sandrine was a lot of fun too. I tried to use my best Maurice Chevalier voice at all times to make them feel right at home, repeating the only French phrase that I know, which is "Oh ho ho, mon-ami. I am always ready to, how-you-say, Put On Zee Show" which I learned from Pierre the Macaw in Disneyland's Enchanted Tiki Room. This worked so well at making Sandrine feel at home, that after about 5 minutes she put her stereo headphones and fell asleep. The unveiling of Martin and Rebecca's new Novato Grotto on Thursday night was well worth all the Hilupilikoa, let me tell you. At precisely the same minute that Krakatoa exploded, one-hundred and twenty-two years earlier, Martin pulled the lever made from the carved thighbone of an ancient Maori witchdoctor and the hydraulic tikicchino-hybrid brass engine let out a high-pitched wail like Yma-Sumac. Powered by pure Absinthe-steam, it raise the rolled, Aku-Aku-coin counterweights, which in turn switched on the Exotica music, dimmed the lights and slowly rolled back the velvet curtain, revealing what is perhaps the most perfectly-imagined home tiki-bar that I have ever seen. Here is a picture I took of it: I still don't know how he got that 'O'opuhue inside the glass float! I shared drinks for the first time with The Drunken Hat, Tikicleen, Tiki Monkey and many others. Then it was off to Mr. Vice Grip's Bamboo Room, where we met up with Humuhumu and Tikifish. Mister Vice Grip has a cool name. I think maybe I will change my name to Sabu The Needlenose Boy. Maybe not. The Mayor of Fairfax read a proclaimation declaring March 31st "Tiki Day In Fairfax". Then some woman flashed her Ala-ihis at him during the newspaper photograph and suddenly he declared the entire month of March "Tiki Month in Fairfax" and handed Martiki the key to the city or his Hyundai - I don't remember which. Martin tried reading phony proclaimations from mayors each succeeding night, hoping that a naked girl would appear again, but it was not to be. Good try though on his part. Project Pimento and Ape sounded fantastic. Humuhumu danced. Monkeyman filmed the bands. Tikifish bought me a drink. It was strange and wonderful to talk to Tikifish without constantly checking over my shoulder to see if my boss was nearby so I could close the Shout window. What a relief to get back to work on Monday so that I could be my natural self again with her, without all this face-to-face Ulaula. Auê! The next morning, Monkeyman, Virani, Sandrine and myself hiked to the top of Mount Tamalpais in the Mill Valley area to work off the Chi-Chis from the night before. It was one of those rare, sunny, warm mornings with almost nobody on the trails. The exercise felt great and the air was clean and clear. From the top of the peak at just over 2,500 feet, there was a fantastic view of San Francisco, clear as could be, without a trace of fog. Even though it was over 10 miles as the crow flies, I could still make out the Golden Gate Bridge, Alcatraz Island, and Jungle Trader's giant penis carving. With that landmark in site, we had no trouble getting to the Phoenix Hotel before the buses left at 4:00pm. I really liked the Phoenix Hotel, with its modernist 1960s architecture, custom-tiled swimming pool, and one of the best Continental Breakfast/Bikini Model Shoots that I've ever experienced. Five stars! Here we picked up Hula Hula (not a fish name), Chongolio (not a fish name), and Seamus (not a fish name) and Jauna among others. Leaving the sparkling hotel grounds on the way to the Tonga Room, you were suddenly faced again with the funky urban-ness of the Civic Center of San Francisco. "For those of you new to the City," said Hanford as he drove, "If you look out to the left you can get a glimpse of some authentic San Francisco hookers." I craned my neck and sure enough, walking quickly down the sidewalk were several women in garish, tight-fitting dresses who practically exuded an air of cheap sexuality. Then in embarassment I realized it was Humuhumu, Tikifish, and Crystal Chandelier, running to catch the next shuttle bus. It's humor like that that makes Hanford a god to me. The Tonga Room had to be one of the highlights of the weekend for me, with its high ceilings, dim lighting, ship's masts and riggings, dense foliage, and giant tikis lurking in the shadows. The minute we arrived a rainstorm showered the central pool from the overhanging roofs. I was in heaven! The restaurant was mostly empty, so we could roam to our hearts content, snapping pictures. Big Al bought me a drink. Even the buffet wasn't half bad this time. Of course, I didn't partake of the buffet, so maybe that was the reason. The food was better at our next stop, the Conga Lounge, as were the Mai Tais. Shelley bought me a drink. From this point we headed over to Trader Vic's Emeryville, another high point for me. Great Tikis and decor. We had a private ballroom, just for the Tiki-Central party. The way we filled that room was a testament to the dedication, comraderie, and tiki spirit that only an over-bloated raffle can create. "How many tickets would you like?" Martin asked me when my turn in line came up. I tried my best to judge how many tickets would give me a good chance at winning a prize. I counted the number of prizes. Then I counted the number of people. Then I counted the number of prizes again. "One please" I said. The fact that I won five different prizes with that single ticket should be a lesson to all those TC'ers who decided to stay home this weekend. The lesson, of course, is that the contest was rigged in favor of Sabu The Coconut Boy, but don't let that stop you next year. The Mai-Kai Gents played some stellar sets. Humuhumu danced. Monkeyman filmed the band. We all sweated. Someone bought me drinks. The high point of the evening for me, however, was meeting the famous Kohalacharms in person! Traderpup introduced us and we had a great discussion on mug-collecting. I even gave him one of my rare Pele mugs in trade for a future visit to his house to see his collection. The strange thing was, Midnight Tiki's wife seemed to know Kohalacharms very well. Almost too well if you get my drift, the way they were holding hands and practically glued together at the waist. And it was a shame I never got to meet Midnight Tiki himself. I hear he's quite a joker and we probably would have gotten along great. Oh Well. After getting the drunken guests shuttle buses and taxis back to their hotels, Hanford chose a select group of us (those who could stand upright), to drive back to the Conga Lounge for more drinks and dancing. The DJ played a selection of Salsa and Merenge which Humuhumu danced to, and I deluded myself into believing I could still remember how to dance to. Monkeyman was filming the back of his eyelids in his hotel room. Someone bought us two big scorpion bowls and there was a limbo contest. Which I vaguely remember not winning. My eyelids were having their own limbo contest, playing "how low can you go". So was newcomer John's pants. I propped my eyes back open and discovered that I could now see two of everything. which was good because I was now dancing with two Humuhumus. Sitting back at the bar, Seamus was regaling me with tales of heart-stopping adventure. My monkey skull necklace began to talk to me. I ordered it a drink. Hanford calling us back to the bus. Vague recollection of stumbling into my hotel room and falling into bed, taking a lamp with me. In the next bed, Monkeyman doesn't even move. I fall asleep. Ah. Saturday. The big day. The KikaKapu day. I wake up refreshed. Partake of the usual Continental Breakfast and Bikini Photo Shoot with HulaHula, Jungle Trader, Monkeyman, HumuHumu, Al, Seamus and others. We have a little relaxed shopping time in Japantown during the day. I buy a Hello Kitty Breathalizer and Handcuff kit, then suddenly it's 4:00pm and time for the next night of festivities to begin! First we walk to the new San Francisco Trader Vics. I gotta tell you, I was really impressed. I like cluttered tiki bars as much as the next guy, but I like clean, stylish, minimilist tiki bars just as much. And the new Trader Vic's was one of the best. Not as dark as your typical tiki restaurant, but with high cielings, beautiful wood, and clean lines. There was plenty of tiki decor to go around, but it was displayed nicely. Kind of what a Ralph Lauren safari room might look like, except with New Guinea masks instead of animal trophy heads on the wall. Many HUGE Marquesan tikis and the biggest outrigger canoe I've ever seen hanging from the cieling. Best of all, it was a relaxed atmosphere, with Hawaiian music playing lightly in the background, which allowed me to sit at the tables and have great conversation with many people. The drinks were dirt cheap by Trader Vic's standards ($7.50 Mai Tais) just for our group, and waiters and waitresses brought appetizers around to us on trays. They treated us real nice. Outside Vic's we boarded the giant tiki bus which had been prepared and lovingly decorated for us. I had only one complaint with the bus, and that was that I couldn't get any reading done with all the shouting and laughing and people serving me drinks every ten minutes. Please, people! The first stop was Trader Sam's. One of the oldest pre-tiki bars around, (possibly from the late 1930s?), walking inside is like stepping into one of my old linen postcards. Old-school thick rattan (not bamboo) bar forming a half circle in the center of the restaurant. Cozy booths along the walls, each in a rattan cage with bent-rattan archways to each booth spelling a different South Seas island. Drop-down art-deco shaped ceiling above the bar done in tight-woven matting-the kind they don't make anymore. There's not many of these places left in the world. I was transported back into the 1940s and found myself asking, "What Would the Jab Do?". He would probably buy me a drink. Yes, I was correct. There was the Jab ordering me a Yellow Bird in a tall hurricane glass. Next stop was old Tiki Bob himself. Believe it or not, Folks, Tiki Bob is actually a large load-bearing pillar in front of a store. Yes, it's true. I found it unbelievable myself. The Hawaiian legends from the Island of Bob don't mention this, and thus you are unprepared. I didn't even realize that Bob had a face until I saw the photographs. I thought he was just a cylinder. That's because I ran up from behind, jumped in the picture, then ran back to the bus from behind Tiki Bob, never running around to the front to take a look. I blame this on the Jab and his treacherous Yellow Bird. By the time we get out of the bus again at The Bamboo Hut, I've already had six drinks. I'm pretty happy. I'm told that the Bamboo Hut is in a district of San Francisco called the "Nude Girls". I can see this is true by looking at the signs up and down the street. My best memory of the Bamboo Hut is that this is where the bartender taught me the Malolo trick with the flaming volcano-bowl. If you stick your finger quickly into the flaming 151 rum in the middle of the volcano, your finger will be coated with a blue flame of rum itself. This looks impressive. To a very drunk person this looks very impressive. You must remember to blow out your finger fairly quickly though. I bought several volcano bowls just so I could show off this trick as much as possible. Once one finger is gone, you can use another finger. It's all completely safe. The final stop of the night was the Lingba Lounge. By this time I suddenly had a revelation. And that revelation was: "I never want to have another rum drink as long as I live." Then I had a second revelation. And that revelation was: "I need to sit down". Amazingly I found the last available seat in the bar. Right back at a small table by the djs. Here I could watch Otto and The Jab and Virani spin their eclectic collection of records and at the same time enjoy the fact that various women, each having their own second revelations, were sitting in my lap. This was a good way to wind down the evening. Monkeyman was filming the djs. Humuhumu was dancing. But seriously, drinking steadilly for three nights in a row really played havoc with my Ulua Pauu. It wasn't until I had a nice, greasy Lae-Nihi with cheese at McDonalds on the drive home the next day that I began to feel better. I think I may even force down a Mai Tai in a week or so, if somebody's buying. Sabu [ Edited by: Sabu The Coconut Boy on 2005-04-07 09:33 ]

Words fail me when trying to describe the great time I had at the 2005 SF Crawl. So I'm going borrow some words from my copy of "The Shore Fishes of the Hawaiian Islands, with a General Account of the Fish Fauna", by David Starr Jordan and Barton Warren Evermann. Bulletin of the United States Fish Commission, Vol. XXIII, for 1903 to help me out.

First of all, big Oopuka-Hai-Hais to Martin, Rebecca, Hanford and Mig for all the work they put into making this such a polished, fun event. And Hanford's bus-driving skills were truly Akilolo, but you probably already know that.

The drive North in the Monkey Bus with Monkeyman, Virani, and his wife, Sandrine was a lot of fun too. I tried to use my best Maurice Chevalier voice at all times to make them feel right at home, repeating the only French phrase that I know, which is "Oh ho ho, mon-ami. I am always ready to, how-you-say, Put On Zee Show" which I learned from Pierre the Macaw in Disneyland's Enchanted Tiki Room. This worked so well at making Sandrine feel at home, that after about 5 minutes she put her stereo headphones and fell asleep.

The unveiling of Martin and Rebecca's new Novato Grotto on Thursday night was well worth all the Hilupilikoa, let me tell you. At precisely the same minute that Krakatoa exploded, one-hundred and twenty-two years earlier, Martin pulled the lever made from the carved thighbone of an ancient Maori witchdoctor and the hydraulic tikicchino-hybrid brass engine let out a high-pitched wail like Yma-Sumac. Powered by pure Absinthe-steam, it raise the rolled, Aku-Aku-coin counterweights, which in turn switched on the Exotica music, dimmed the lights and slowly rolled back the velvet curtain, revealing what is perhaps the most perfectly-imagined home tiki-bar that I have ever seen. Here is a picture I took of it:

I still don't know how he got that 'O'opuhue inside the glass float!

I shared drinks for the first time with The Drunken Hat, Tikicleen, Tiki Monkey and many others. Then it was off to Mr. Vice Grip's Bamboo Room, where we met up with Humuhumu and Tikifish. Mister Vice Grip has a cool name. I think maybe I will change my name to Sabu The Needlenose Boy. Maybe not.

The Mayor of Fairfax read a proclaimation declaring March 31st "Tiki Day In Fairfax". Then some woman flashed her Ala-ihis at him during the newspaper photograph and suddenly he declared the entire month of March "Tiki Month in Fairfax" and handed Martiki the key to the city or his Hyundai - I don't remember which. Martin tried reading phony proclaimations from mayors each succeeding night, hoping that a naked girl would appear again, but it was not to be. Good try though on his part.

Project Pimento and Ape sounded fantastic. Humuhumu danced. Monkeyman filmed the bands. Tikifish bought me a drink. It was strange and wonderful to talk to Tikifish without constantly checking over my shoulder to see if my boss was nearby so I could close the Shout window. What a relief to get back to work on Monday so that I could be my natural self again with her, without all this face-to-face Ulaula. Auê!

The next morning, Monkeyman, Virani, Sandrine and myself hiked to the top of Mount Tamalpais in the Mill Valley area to work off the Chi-Chis from the night before.

It was one of those rare, sunny, warm mornings with almost nobody on the trails. The exercise felt great and the air was clean and clear. From the top of the peak at just over 2,500 feet, there was a fantastic view of San Francisco, clear as could be, without a trace of fog. Even though it was over 10 miles as the crow flies, I could still make out the Golden Gate Bridge, Alcatraz Island, and Jungle Trader's giant penis carving.

With that landmark in site, we had no trouble getting to the Phoenix Hotel before the buses left at 4:00pm. I really liked the Phoenix Hotel, with its modernist 1960s architecture, custom-tiled swimming pool, and one of the best Continental Breakfast/Bikini Model Shoots that I've ever experienced. Five stars!

Here we picked up Hula Hula (not a fish name), Chongolio (not a fish name), and Seamus (not a fish name) and Jauna among others. Leaving the sparkling hotel grounds on the way to the Tonga Room, you were suddenly faced again with the funky urban-ness of the Civic Center of San Francisco. "For those of you new to the City," said Hanford as he drove, "If you look out to the left you can get a glimpse of some authentic San Francisco hookers."

I craned my neck and sure enough, walking quickly down the sidewalk were several women in garish, tight-fitting dresses who practically exuded an air of cheap sexuality. Then in embarassment I realized it was Humuhumu, Tikifish, and Crystal Chandelier, running to catch the next shuttle bus. It's humor like that that makes Hanford a god to me.

The Tonga Room had to be one of the highlights of the weekend for me, with its high ceilings, dim lighting, ship's masts and riggings, dense foliage, and giant tikis lurking in the shadows. The minute we arrived a rainstorm showered the central pool from the overhanging roofs. I was in heaven! The restaurant was mostly empty, so we could roam to our hearts content, snapping pictures. Big Al bought me a drink. Even the buffet wasn't half bad this time. Of course, I didn't partake of the buffet, so maybe that was the reason.

The food was better at our next stop, the Conga Lounge, as were the Mai Tais. Shelley bought me a drink. From this point we headed over to Trader Vic's Emeryville, another high point for me. Great Tikis and decor. We had a private ballroom, just for the Tiki-Central party. The way we filled that room was a testament to the dedication, comraderie, and tiki spirit that only an over-bloated raffle can create.

"How many tickets would you like?" Martin asked me when my turn in line came up. I tried my best to judge how many tickets would give me a good chance at winning a prize. I counted the number of prizes. Then I counted the number of people. Then I counted the number of prizes again.

"One please" I said.

The fact that I won five different prizes with that single ticket should be a lesson to all those TC'ers who decided to stay home this weekend. The lesson, of course, is that the contest was rigged in favor of Sabu The Coconut Boy, but don't let that stop you next year.

The Mai-Kai Gents played some stellar sets. Humuhumu danced. Monkeyman filmed the band. We all sweated. Someone bought me drinks. The high point of the evening for me, however, was meeting the famous Kohalacharms in person! Traderpup introduced us and we had a great discussion on mug-collecting. I even gave him one of my rare Pele mugs in trade for a future visit to his house to see his collection. The strange thing was, Midnight Tiki's wife seemed to know Kohalacharms very well. Almost too well if you get my drift, the way they were holding hands and practically glued together at the waist. And it was a shame I never got to meet Midnight Tiki himself. I hear he's quite a joker and we probably would have gotten along great. Oh Well.

After getting the drunken guests shuttle buses and taxis back to their hotels, Hanford chose a select group of us (those who could stand upright), to drive back to the Conga Lounge for more drinks and dancing. The DJ played a selection of Salsa and Merenge which Humuhumu danced to, and I deluded myself into believing I could still remember how to dance to. Monkeyman was filming the back of his eyelids in his hotel room. Someone bought us two big scorpion bowls and there was a limbo contest. Which I vaguely remember not winning. My eyelids were having their own limbo contest, playing "how low can you go". So was newcomer John's pants. I propped my eyes back open and discovered that I could now see two of everything. which was good because I was now dancing with two Humuhumus. Sitting back at the bar, Seamus was regaling me with tales of heart-stopping adventure. My monkey skull necklace began to talk to me. I ordered it a drink. Hanford calling us back to the bus. Vague recollection of stumbling into my hotel room and falling into bed, taking a lamp with me. In the next bed, Monkeyman doesn't even move. I fall asleep.

Ah. Saturday. The big day. The KikaKapu day. I wake up refreshed. Partake of the usual Continental Breakfast and Bikini Photo Shoot with HulaHula, Jungle Trader, Monkeyman, HumuHumu, Al, Seamus and others. We have a little relaxed shopping time in Japantown during the day. I buy a Hello Kitty Breathalizer and Handcuff kit, then suddenly it's 4:00pm and time for the next night of festivities to begin!

First we walk to the new San Francisco Trader Vics. I gotta tell you, I was really impressed. I like cluttered tiki bars as much as the next guy, but I like clean, stylish, minimilist tiki bars just as much. And the new Trader Vic's was one of the best. Not as dark as your typical tiki restaurant, but with high cielings, beautiful wood, and clean lines. There was plenty of tiki decor to go around, but it was displayed nicely. Kind of what a Ralph Lauren safari room might look like, except with New Guinea masks instead of animal trophy heads on the wall. Many HUGE Marquesan tikis and the biggest outrigger canoe I've ever seen hanging from the cieling. Best of all, it was a relaxed atmosphere, with Hawaiian music playing lightly in the background, which allowed me to sit at the tables and have great conversation with many people. The drinks were dirt cheap by Trader Vic's standards ($7.50 Mai Tais) just for our group, and waiters and waitresses brought appetizers around to us on trays. They treated us real nice.

Outside Vic's we boarded the giant tiki bus which had been prepared and lovingly decorated for us. I had only one complaint with the bus, and that was that I couldn't get any reading done with all the shouting and laughing and people serving me drinks every ten minutes. Please, people!

The first stop was Trader Sam's. One of the oldest pre-tiki bars around, (possibly from the late 1930s?), walking inside is like stepping into one of my old linen postcards. Old-school thick rattan (not bamboo) bar forming a half circle in the center of the restaurant. Cozy booths along the walls, each in a rattan cage with bent-rattan archways to each booth spelling a different South Seas island. Drop-down art-deco shaped ceiling above the bar done in tight-woven matting-the kind they don't make anymore. There's not many of these places left in the world. I was transported back into the 1940s and found myself asking, "What Would the Jab Do?". He would probably buy me a drink. Yes, I was correct. There was the Jab ordering me a Yellow Bird in a tall hurricane glass.

Next stop was old Tiki Bob himself. Believe it or not, Folks, Tiki Bob is actually a large load-bearing pillar in front of a store. Yes, it's true. I found it unbelievable myself. The Hawaiian legends from the Island of Bob don't mention this, and thus you are unprepared. I didn't even realize that Bob had a face until I saw the photographs. I thought he was just a cylinder. That's because I ran up from behind, jumped in the picture, then ran back to the bus from behind Tiki Bob, never running around to the front to take a look. I blame this on the Jab and his treacherous Yellow Bird.

By the time we get out of the bus again at The Bamboo Hut, I've already had six drinks. I'm pretty happy. I'm told that the Bamboo Hut is in a district of San Francisco called the "Nude Girls". I can see this is true by looking at the signs up and down the street. My best memory of the Bamboo Hut is that this is where the bartender taught me the Malolo trick with the flaming volcano-bowl. If you stick your finger quickly into the flaming 151 rum in the middle of the volcano, your finger will be coated with a blue flame of rum itself. This looks impressive. To a very drunk person this looks very impressive. You must remember to blow out your finger fairly quickly though. I bought several volcano bowls just so I could show off this trick as much as possible. Once one finger is gone, you can use another finger. It's all completely safe.

The final stop of the night was the Lingba Lounge. By this time I suddenly had a revelation. And that revelation was: "I never want to have another rum drink as long as I live." Then I had a second revelation. And that revelation was: "I need to sit down". Amazingly I found the last available seat in the bar. Right back at a small table by the djs. Here I could watch Otto and The Jab and Virani spin their eclectic collection of records and at the same time enjoy the fact that various women, each having their own second revelations, were sitting in my lap. This was a good way to wind down the evening. Monkeyman was filming the djs. Humuhumu was dancing.

But seriously, drinking steadilly for three nights in a row really played havoc with my Ulua Pauu. It wasn't until I had a nice, greasy Lae-Nihi with cheese at McDonalds on the drive home the next day that I began to feel better. I think I may even force down a Mai Tai in a week or so, if somebody's buying.

Sabu

[ Edited by: Sabu The Coconut Boy on 2005-04-07 09:33 ]

Post #151217 by Sabu The Coconut Boy on Tue, Apr 5, 2005 5:34 PM