Day 15

The Non Luau

The ticket said it was a luau. The hotel staff recommended it as a luau. Thank goodness we got our tickets at half price. Otherwise, I would have been *really* angry.

I guess I should have suspected something when I called to make reservations and the lady on the phone asked, “Would you like our 5:00 seating?” I answered no, that we would prefer a later seating. She replied that 5:00 was the only seating. Rather early for dinner….

As we came off the escalator, we were ushered to a long line in which I think I was the only non-Asian. Daniel whispered to me, “Do you feel like you’re back in Korea?” Well, only because I can understand nothing of what’s being said around me.

It turned out that the majority of the other patrons were part of tour groups, Asian, and over 55. As we stood in line, Daniel whispered to me again. “Why are we being led into a conference room?” Good question. I thought luaus were supposed to be on the beach.

As we were seated, a tired looking waitress nonchalantly handed us what she claimed were mai tais. She pointed us to the buffet.

We scooped potato salad, kim chi, pasta dishes, curry chicken, and prime rib on our plates. At the end of the buffet, Daniel whispered to me again. “Where’s the pig? I thought there was always pig at a luau.” I looked around. I didn’t see any pig. Or poi.

We ate our dinner, somewhat disappointed. I had expected to see a big, fat pig, with an apple in its mouth, staring at me from the low slung table, as I massaged sand in between my toes.

The real disappointment, however, was the entertainment. Well, I guess it was only a disappointment if you actually expected something entertaining. I had. And, to be fair, I did laugh at times. Because the show couldn’t have been more of a parody of what a Vegas “culture” production was had they tried. It started with the pareo fashion show – lots of ways to tie a pareo – look at all the different styles! Then came the “uncle” narrator, dressed in white pants, a very loud Hawaiian shirt, and lots of leis. And the oiled women and men, dancing traditional dances. Sort of. I was rather disappointed that for the hula they wore cellophane grass skirts, not the real ones. My favorite scenario: The scene opened with a chief tribesman and his woman exchanging good bye kisses as she sends him out to the jungle to hunt. Very Ozzie and Harriet with a tropical twist. Only moments after the chief leaves, his enemy enters the campsite and clubbed the woman to death. A very dramatic, faint to the ground, woe is me, swooning death. Then the dance began. The chief’s tribe, dancing a dance of revenge, stomping and whooping. Which would have been moving, except one of the tribesmen didn’t know the moves and kept glancing at the other warriors as he stood, not sure which spear to raise, which foot to stomp. His “ugh”s and “oomph”s came just a split second too late.

I was prepared to leave halfway through the performance (something I’ve never done), but Daniel suggested we stay. I’m glad we did. The last performance was the fire dancer. That was hot.