It was a dark and stormy night...actually it was a clear and balmy Winter night as I stood my post at Forbidden Island. It was only my second gig as stand-in doorman at my favorite tiki lounge. I'd also just been hired as their official publicist. The regular greeter, Mig, was taking the night off, hence my presence. I was developing my own doorman style, complete with my customary fez hat. (I was also flashing on that Seinfeld episode, "The Doorman" - "you think you're better than me, don't ya?") It was fun telling people I wasn't a Muslim terrorist or a shriner. Fez hats are part of tiki culture. Don't ask me why, it's just more Caucasian co-opting of foreign cultures for pop art purposes. I'm liberal enough but not the PC type so I don't question it. I was also wearing my official Miami Vice purple blazer. My way of carding folks? I'd flash the MV insignia on the inside pocket and ask, "Have you ever seen this TV show?" Yes would mean you're over 21. Little did I know the night was destined to be a freaky '80s blast from the past in a way I could have never anticipated...

You got ID, pal?
"So you're in a band, cool," I said. "What kind of music?"
"You know the Go-Go's?" she said.
"Yea, sure. So your band is like the Go-Go's?"
"No...my band IS the Go-Go's. I'm Gina, the drummer."

Gina? Schocked!
I met "The Beat" in "We Got the Beat." And then I had a MaiTai. I was in the right place at the right time. Sometimes Life has a funny way of letting you know that you're on the right path. A thread is pulled and it all suddenly ties together.
See you at Forbidden Island, where it always feels like you're on vacation, even if you're working. Aloha.


