1. Finding
As we drove thru Kea‘au, we passed a strip mall. There was a gas station, a grocery store, a health food store and a couple restaurants.
It was dinner time. We were hungry. The parking lot was full. And a crowd was at Hokulani’s Steak House. So we decided this was the place to eat.
There was a hostess inside the door.
“Do you have reservations?” she asked. Of course, we didn’t, but she thought she could seat us.
There was a musician setting up his guitar and amps and microphones in the back corner of the main room.
I’m thinking to myself, “Wow, this is perfect.”
2. Ordering
We sat outside on the patio under a broad roof. We sat there happy to have found this place. We sat and watched people coming and going and listened to the conversation on the patio around us. We sat. And we watched. And we sat… And no one came to take our order, although four different people came out at one time or another and looked in our direction.
Eventually the fair and industrious Trudy flagged a guy down.
“I’m just the busboy,” he said in an apologetic tone. And then he added, “I never get a promotion,” an odd thing to say in that situation.
“Well… it’s coming,” I said meaninglessly, not knowing how else to respond.
A few moments later, he returned.
“Chris is the manager,” he told us and then turned around and left.
Wait. What?
A long time passed. More employees looked around the corner. But still no one came to take our order.
I mean this was a really long wait. Even the couple at the table nearby was noticing our predicament.
Finally a waiter walked up. He had no look of apology on his face. It was as if nothing had happened (which in fact was true). He just walked up to us and said, “Thanks for waiting. Can I take your order?”
As it turned out, we neither saw nor spoke to that waiter again.
3. Eating
Trudy’s soup came first. I sat there while she began.
Then they brought out our appetizers. These were the single worst potato skins I have ever eaten in my life. Not only were they tasteless, but they were topped with canned mushrooms. Mushrooms on potato skins!? Ok, maybe that’s a thing there. But canned!? And the pile of them on top of the potato was daunting. Maybe this was their way of apologizing for how long we had to eat. Or maybe it was their way of hiding the lameness of the potato skins themselves.
And then my steak came out. It was also covered with canned mushrooms. And it was too rare. Indeed, a guy two tables down had the same problem with his steak, and he had sent it back, but their waiter brought his steak back out from the kitchen and announced quite publicly that in fact it was not too rare, putting the steak back on the table. So I ate my steak, along with the meager, tasteless vegetables.
In all fairness, at least the macaroni salad was good.
4. Paying
After we were finished, Paul the busboy cleared our plates. We pushed back and listened to the music and waited for the bill.
It won’t surprise you that the bill didn’t come. Ten minutes passed without any hint of any face of any person who worked in that place.
At this point, I’m wondering how on earth was it that anyone came here. Trudy gave up and left to do some grocery shopping at the Foodland at the end of the strip mall. I sat there and waited. And waited.
Eventually Paul came to the table. He apologized that he had forgotten, and he gave me the bill.
Wait. What? The busboy who never gets promoted brought us our bill? Holy cow, what kind of upside down world was this?
I gave him my credit card which he took back inside.
When he returned, he set the bill and the card on the table, and he began talking.
He talked about the missles in North Korea. He told me that he like watching the news. He told me how they make fun of him and his best friend for being from North Carolina. He asked where we were from, and he said “H-town!” when I mentioned Texas. He talked about how his friend had gotten a girl pregnant and was now helping raise the boy. And he talked about how he had flown to Hawaii on a one-way ticket, at which point he looked over at me with some kind of knowing look on his face.
5. Postscript
That was our dinner in Kea‘au at Hokulani’s Steak House.
If you should go there some day, let me warn you that the parking lot might be busy, the place might be crowded, they might ask if you have reservations, and there might be live music inside, but we can’t recommend it for dinner, even if there is this great busboy who works there.
Wait. Look. I see on Yelp that the steak house has closed. I guess our experience was not unique.
