Post #413205 by midnite on Tue, Oct 14, 2008 12:10 AM

Crawling From The Wreckage

9-12 October 2008

An Indian summer had set upon the Bay Area. Gentle winds from the East clear a presumptive fog and reveal the brightest azure sky. San Francisco awoke that Thursday morning to a cheerful today and hopeful tomorrow, yet my world was dark. A black canvas displaying pain, only the pain. I walk, solo, through the streets, searching for what I can never know. Always the darkness. And the pain.

Heh heh, it's time to crawl...San Francisco Tiki Crawl. A trip not of long layovers and distant shores. No, more like bad hangovers and lengthy straws. I stayed in a hotel, I travelled (a bit), and I had a room service club sandwich. That's a trip, it counts.

October brings some of the most special moments. Some I wait for all year. It's the time of the baseball playoffs, Fleet Week, and some years the San Francisco Tiki Crawl. I like October. It's the anti-August. Amen, brother. So, notwithstanding a severe crash in the equities market, it's time to party like it's 1999.

First up on the docket was South Bay Thursday. A trip by rail, who doesn't love a train ride, gets us to Palo Alto Trader Vic's. Now, let me me reveal a deep dark secret (no not that one): I have never been to this Vic's. Before you get out the pitchforks and torches, let me remind you: South Bay...Pal-o Alt-o... as in Stanford...Stanford University...see? I thought you'd understand.

Well, first impressions count more than second so let me say this, not bad. I dig the PNG art and the owner has a primo collection thereof. I had three cocktails and two of there were good. One was obviously made by the lone Leland Stanford Junior University grad behind the bar. Still, as Trader Vic's go this one was good enough. The room is simply too utilitarian for me, Trader Vic's or a Bennigan's? Hard to tell at times. See? Do you see what happens when you pour THAT much lemon juice in a Samoan Fogcutter. It becomes undrinkable, THAT'S what happens, man....and then it colors my impressions of the room.

Still, what a great start to the aught-eight crawl. Plus, I got, due to a lucky twist of decadence, to stay downtown in a posh hotel. Hey, Palo Alto is far, and I needed a club. What a club it was too. On toasted sourdough, with arugula and applewood smoked bacon...the Palace Hotel's chicken club is one severe San Francisco treat. It is, to coin a phrase, to "die for". Oh shit, the Harding family may read this, my apologies. He was a great man, if only a pedestrian president.

Day two on the Tiki Crawl and we're staying home. San Francisco that is. Maybe I'll see some celebrities in town for the festivities? That'd be cool. Almost as cool as watching my favorite military precision flying team, the Blue Angels. The time spent watching them fly was time I could not use to get to Tard'r Sam's. I felt like having a tiki drink done as if by Farrell's Ice Cream Parlour, too. Plus, dark secret number two: I have never been inside! So I missed Sam's. Sue me.

Made it to the Tonga Room though, what a lucky bastard! What a great room, what a great great room....sigh. Next!

It's a dark and secretive tale I suppose. Dark secret number three: I had never been to Bamboo Hut. I just figured it was not my style, and that I'd find it difficult to enjoy. Well, burn my toast, I liked Bamboo Hut. Of course it did not hurt that most of the clientele was fellow tiki-philes. Plus, Otto was spinning tunes which made the vibe more to my liking indeed. Also, I had beer. Bottom line, the Bamboo Hut is pretty cool in a counter culture tiki way. It brightened my mood after dealing with the typical Tonga Room experience (What a great room, a great great room. Sigh).

Day Three: midnite rides the bus. Well, like that's news! However, if it's the Tiki Crawl Bus it's news, alright. Dark secret number...whatever...I never rode the Tiki Crawl Bus! Wait, I did hop on the return leg of the South Bay bus. So, I was not a bus virgin. Scratch that last dark secret. First stop was Forbidden Island and it of course did not disappoint. Fantastic cocktail, a much more deeply appreciated decor, and plenty of good times with old friends. A warm Alameda afternoon, a tasty Sidewinder's Fang...why I gotta leave? Oh yeah, I'm on the bus.

The wheels on the bus go round and they roll to Conga Lounge. I like the Conga, but I love the pizza at Rustica even more. So, while the crowd competes for space upstairs we adjourned downstairs for some classic pie. I actually participated in an impromptu "College Avenue Crawl" during our stay at the Conga Lounge. That's for another report, though.

Two down and two to go. The liver is holding up, which is a surprising development to my physician. Off to the Kona Club to see the remarkable work of Bamboo Ben and Crazy Al. Ben did wonders in that space and it's always a blast to take it in. However, this time the blasted volcano was working. The bus crowd is hitting its stride and the evening is full of fine company and soon to be pleasant music? Oh, good Lord...Journey. Someone please set off the volcano again. I just may pass out before the Neil Schon solo...nope.

Last call for Trader Vic's! I love Vic's, I really do. However, by 11pm and after being out and about for over eight hours my sea legs are a bit, well, old. I'm hanging in there, if not for me then for the children. A Stinker, Navy Grog, and Trader Vic's Grog trifecta help get me through the night. Once again Vic's came through for the Tiki Central crowd. The Mai Kai Gents played their tunes and a good time was had, indeed. Is that really "Pretty Woman" on the TV...Ok, on this hand Journey, on the other, "Pretty Woman"...it's getting dark again.

A wee trip and a fine crawl. Too many folks to mention, but it was fantastic seeing you all come out for the greatest, longest running, modern-day tiki event. The glaze is food safe, too. Way to go Hanford, Martin, and Bill. Thanks also to the hard working crews at all the stops, they did a yeoman's job.

Now, the mystery of the Johnny Conch will be solved. This pranksterism will not stand.

The Johnny Conch, oh man, that is rare. Funny, in a dark humor sense.

Darkness? The pain. It's coming back. Yeah, I just stood around way too long. I'm getting old, man. It's October, these things happen. Forget it, Suzanne. It's Chinatown...a few blocks that way.

Until next year, crawl-wise that is.
midnite