Slouching Towards Euphoria: Forbidden Island

I wonder if those first people who walked into Hinky Dink’s (soon to morph into Trader Vic’s) understood the kitschy drive behind Tiki bars. Probably not; they probably thought it was exotic, which Tiki bars are, but now they mix kitsch along with exotic.

I have a friend who moved to the island of Alameda, and I finally got the chance to visit him. We checked out a Tiki lounge near his house called Forbidden Island. This place is the best Tiki bar I’ve ever been in. Trader Vic’s is bland. The Tonga Room is way too expensive and touristy. Trad’r Sam’s is great but a little ramshackle.

The outside has wood paneling with painted Tiki gods and palm trees. As you enter, a long wood bar with a low ceiling covered in palm fronds is to your right. There are booths with bamboo walls and couches and the kind of chair that Mr. Roarke of Fantasy Island would lounge on. A fountain gives off its soothing sound and emits a green color. They have an outside area for smoking with tables and couches and another fountain. A corpse of a pirate lies near the fountain.

The jukebox is stocked with Hawaiian music, surf guitar, rat pack classics, and a whole lotta soul. Black velvet paintings of busty nude women hang on the wall. They played beach movies on the one television. The place has a curious smell of stale, sickly sweet drinks and the fried bar food they serve. The bathrooms have old advertisements for Tiki cups and rum. The bartenders were two really cute brunettes that had more than a passing resemblance to Betty Page.

The drink selection was superb. They carried classics like the Mai Tai and the Fog Cutter. And they also had their own tasty concoctions, such as Neptune’s Garden, a bluish umbrella drink and the eponymous Forbidden Island that comes with its own mug. They had a wide range of rums, and I’m sure they could make you any drink in the world, so large was their bottle collection. And the food was decent: friend prawns in a coconut batter and sweet potato fries served for an impromptu dinner.

My friend and I met a dialysis technician (which might come in handy some day) and drank outside by the fountain. Tiki drinks are sort of like boozing and eating a whole lot of desserts at the same time. Plus, you get to say things like, “I’ll have a Banana Mamacow, please.” And I love the kitsch. It’s joyful and goofy. It’s a celebration of beach vacations. Next to us, were some bartenders on their day off. They told us stories of comeuppance for snotty customers. Always be nice to bartenders.

We drank a bit too much for a Sunday night, but logical thought was not present. Meh, the ancient gods of the Pacific Islands approve, so I can’t complain.