Rumors at Ala Moana

In response to Mark’s post about the Irish Rose, I thought I’d also review a place I went to on Saturday night called Rumors. It’s attached to the Ala Moana Hotel in Honolulu, and sucks. I went there for a co-worker’s birthday party, but could only take about 2 hours of it before I left, swearing to never go back there.

Firstly, I’m really glad I didn’t have to pay the $7 cover because I was on the list. If I had paid that I would have shot myself in the head for being such a moron later in the evening after seeing what this place is all about. The first thing I noticed when I walked in was that it’s a pretty swanky, nice looking place. But that’s the only positive thing I’m going to say about it, because the second thing I noticed was that it was about 90 degrees in there and as humid as an old man’s balls in a sauna – and kinda smelled like it too (you’ll understand why in the next paragraph). It just so happened that Saturday nights there are “Flashback” nights, so the music wasn’t as horrible as normal clubs, as it was 80s type stuff. Still not my favorite, because it was the bad 80s songs, but not as bad as “Boots wit the furrrr.”

I then proceeded to walk towards the dance floor and saw this old woman, literally about 60 I’d bet, dancing in one of the two bungee-cord cages they had on the dance floor. She had crazy Rod Steward white hair, and was really short, wearing an even shorter skirt. Disgusting. Then, looking around, I noticed the average age for this place must have been about 30. Not many people under 30, but many 30-somethings and many, many 40 somethings acting like 19 year olds. Yuck. Many of them were obvious tourists – wearing somewhat classy evening dresses, sunburned, with a lei and a mai tai, waving it around in the air and doing a dance that somewhat resembled some sort of robotic seizure machine that desperately needs a lube job – which is what I suspect these tourists were really after. I was just picturing in my mind the “crazy stories” of how “wild” they all got in the “club” while on vacation in Hawaii. Ooooh, how that bitch Cindy in the next cubicle at the office will be jealous of the giggling and the “I’ll-never-tells.” Gimmie a break. You’re old. Don’t do that.

So that was pretty much the experience. As you all know, I’m 24, and was definitely one of the youngest people there – I spotted maybe 10 others the entire night that looked similar in age to myself. I think the greatest part was this really creepy old skinny Asian dude in a salmon shirt that would dance wherever he went walking around while wiping sweat from his forehead with a napkin. At one point he even did a stripper-pole like dance on the cage structure. Creepy. Nobody wants to see that. Ever.

To wrap it up, I’d never go back, and here’s why: even though it’s a cool-looking place on the inside, the over-crowded, under-air conditioned, middle-aged, expensive-drink, molly-menopausal old and lonely hearts club is not for me. I’m never going back, and would urge you all not to either.