I first wrote about Tiki Road Trip
in 2003, when the first edition was released. When a new edition
appeared on my desk, I opened it immediately. I was about
to head to Great Falls, Montana, and I knew if there were
a Tiki bar there, James Teitelbaum would tell me all about
it. Little did I know, as I flipped the pages of the new Tiki
Road Trip, that I was about to learn about one of the
greatest Tiki bars in the history of tiny paper parasols.
The Sip-N-Dip
Lounge features a swimming pool with a big glass window
visible in the bar. Mermaids swim for the edification of bar
patrons on the weekends, and a pianist entertains most other
nights. The Tiki experience is up there with the best, and
longtime head bartender Vern Green can prove it. His well-worn
copy of a 2003 GQ reveals that the Sip-N-Dip was named
-- drum roll, please -- the top bar IN THE WORLD.
And it was great. And I never would have known
about it without Tiki Road Trip. This new edition is every
bit as good as the last -- the only sad thing is the updates
about Tiki bars that no longer exist. But have no fear. Tiki
is not in danger of going extinct. Even though many old fishnet-draped
wonders have shut their doors, new Tiki bars are popping up
all over. The phenomenon continues to evolve, and Tiki
Road Trip is the great way to keep track. Whether you're
on a vacation, a business trip, or you want to discover something
new in your own home town, you'll never have to miss out on
a mermaid or an animatronic Tiki god again.
Below is the review I wrote about the first edition
of Tiki Road Trip. I've decided to leave it here, because
everything I said still applies. It may be hard to believe
that a book about bars decorated with kitschy pseudo-Polynesian
artifacts can offer a fascinating look at American cultural
history, but this one succeeds. And after my trip to Great
Falls, Montana and the Sip-N-Dip Lounge, I'll never leave
home again without checking for Tiki bars along my route.
Forgive me, but isn't "Tiki
Culture" a bit of an oxymoron? I couldn't help wondering
when I first saw the subtitle of James Teitelbaum's latest
book. Is there anything even remotely culturally significant
about fake Polynesian totems and fruity drinks decorated with
little paper parasols? Come on. Tiki is tacky, and
we all know it.
But Tiki Road Trip was too enticingly idiosyncratic
to put down, and I was only a few paragraphs into the introduction
when the scales began falling from my eyes. Tiki is not only
culturally significant, it's oddly seductive. Or maybe it's
Teitelbaum's obvious love for his subject matter, careful
research, and engaging writing style that make bamboo walls,
grass skirts, and puffer fish decor suddenly fascinating.
Whatever it is, Tiki Road Trip is a cover-to-cover
delight, and I will never again be able to drive past a bar
with an outrigger canoe without wanting to go inside. Wow.
That means this is a book that changes lives.
The first amazing revelation in Tiki Road
Trip is that "Polynesian influence on American popular
culture is nearing its 75th year," as Teitelbaum states
in his acknowledgements. Later on, he explains how it all
started not long after World War I, when the "Golden
Age of Travel" meant that people were coming back from
cruises in the South Seas with visions of hula girls dancing
in their heads. Then came visionary entrepreneurs like Don
the Beachcomber and Trader Vic, and the rest is history.
Kon
Tiki Hotel in Phoenix, Arizona: Gone, but thanks to
Tiki Road Trip, not forgotten
But Tiki Road Trip is not just history.
While he does include writeups of Tiki destinations that no
longer exist, the bulk of Teitelbaum's information is about
the scores of bars and restaurants that are still open for
business not only in the United States and Canada, but also
in far-flung places like Chile, Greece, and Norway. Teitelbaum
developed complex rating systems for the establishments he
reviews, including the extremely elucidating "TiPSY Factor,"
an acronym that stands for "Tikis Per Square Yard."
In addition to the reviews, there's an extensive
glossary that defines an array of important terms like "volcano
bowl," the large, ceramic dish used to create flaming
drinks, and "Disney Tiki," a term for "any
wooden Tiki statue that has been overpainted with bright colors."
The glossary also provides info about major contributors to
Tiki culture like Edward Leeteg, the "American Gaugin"
who turned out close to 1,700 paintings of luscious island
girls on black velvet.
For those interested in bringing authentic Tiki-ness
into their homes, there are authentic recipes for making drinks
like Mai Tais, Zombies, Scorpions, and Singapore Slings. There's
more history here, too, including the fact that Don the Beachcomber
invented "The Missionary's Downfall," and that the
"Suffering Bastard" is one of the newer classic
drinks (dating back only to 1968), and is "properly drunk
through a straw while holding the nose so as to save the tender
tissues of the lips and prevent premature insensibility."
I was a skeptic when I picked up Tiki
Road Trip, but as the author beckoned me gently to the
Bali Hai in my own backyard, I had to admit that my ignorance
of Tiki was not bliss. Bliss is a drink in a coconut topped
off with a pink paper parasol.
, by James Teitelbaum
