An hour later you arrive at Oceanic Arts, the ’World’s Leading Supplier of Tropical/Polynesian Decor.’ The cab driver turns to you and says “$160. Weberly Hills to Whittier, long trip! Eh-heh-heh-heh.”
You walk inside the shop and are soon in a better mood. Oceanic Arts has all manner of Tiki! You feel as if you’ve just walked into Gilligan’s workshop. Surveying the place, you suddenly realize that you could rent this stuff for the duration of the rainy season, create a tropical cave in your uncle’s basement and likely save a bundle on bar tabs and cabfares to Duke’s, Trader Vic’s and the like. Forget those guys. You’re going to to make your own cave tiki bar with the help of your newfound friends in Whittier.
A few hours and thousands of dollars later, you’re tired, hungry and thirsty. To top it off, you’ve got a nagging, unsettling feeling about the whereabouts of the sunburned man with the combover. You haven’t seen him since you arrived. You’re craving a flaming drink in a tall ceramic glass with umbrella, pineapple and maraschino garnishes.
“Say man. Where can a fellow get a bite to eat around here?” you ask the guy behind the register.
“Some folks like the Bahooka in Rosemead. They serve ribs. However, you might be better off at Damon’s up in Glendale.” He looks you up and down. “Are you from out of town? Damon’s is a little more…mainstream,” he adds.
If you decide to go to Damon’s, turn to page 68.
If you neglect his advice and go to Bahooka anyway, turn to page 137.