Talkin' Shit About A Pretty Sunset

It may surprise you, but last night was my first experience at the tiki restaurant, Trader Vic's. The thrill and pleasure sensations that pulsed through my body while there were completely unexpected. I nearly came in my pants from happiness -- like stepping into an exotic kitsch country full of neato stuff 12-year-old boys like.

It was like 1956 San Francisco or something. Everything was exactly as I could have hoped or better. All the waiters were American-Chinese, the cocktails were over-the-top -- sometimes on fire, perfectly balanced in flavor -- real turtles and blowfish adorned the walls and ceilings, and everywhere you could see were tiki totems, bamboo, or exotic designs. You probably already know those things exist at tiki restaurants, but you really have to eat mahi mahi and drink rum around all this weird stuff to understand.

I convinced our table to start off with a scorpion bowl -- a big bowl of rum, fruit juice and crushed ice that five people drink through two-foot colorful straws. YES YES. My second cocktail was a Black Stripe: dark Jamaican rum, a crushed cherry, cinnamon stick, honey and cloves -- lit on fucking FIRE, and served from a giant mug that looked like a human skull (and nearly the same size). Third was a Mai Tai. And God, I thought I mixed them best. I am humbled. Humbled.

I am not joking when I say these two things: 1) Trader Vic's in Atlanta was the funnest restaurant I've been to in a long time, and; 2) while there, I had a jittery feeling that I'd quit my job and open one up in DC for tourists and locals. Dare me?