Tropical Tryst
Last night my wife lost a bet (it was F. Murray Abraham in Amadeus, not Ben Kingsley) and not-so-grudgingly had to take me for mojitos at the Luau, a short walk from our house. My wife usually orders a Pele’s Revenge, but went with the less flamboyant mojito last night.
Their specialty is Polynesian food and cocktails, much like the old Trader Vic’s, and seems to be a favorite of the single 20-30 crowd on weekends. People tend to get pretty loaded. Once when we were walking nearby, a couple wandered out of the Luau and we overheard them plaintively wondering where they’d parked their car.
The bar is decorated with all manner of pseudo-Polynesian kitsch, but last night we noticed an incongruous bulletin board stuffed with baby pictures. We asked the bartender if it commemorated grievous lapses in protection practiced by customers who met there. He didn’t outright deny it.
