elcome to the Dark Side, where our easy routines get turned upside down and shaken like a naughty Etch-A-Sketch. Let’s fix our headlamps firmly to our craniums, slink down a back alley, lift a personhole cover, and find out what’s going on in Underground Vancouver.

First stop, the Downtown Eastside. Perhaps it’s not the posh NYC version, but Vancouver’s own Waldorf Hotel is no slouch when it comes to boozaterias. Sure, you could settle into the macho-generic upstairs pub, but we’re going deep underground and setting the Wayback Machine for the early Fifties. Join me on our jungle trek to the Polynesian Perverse.

Legend has it that the authentic basement Tiki Bar was built after WWII to cater to the then-new craze. When the trend abated the place was simply shuttered while both cocktail culture and East Hastings underwent some traumatic changes, culminating, alas, in the respective inventions of Zima malt beverage and the Downtown EastSide as we know it. When cocktails made their triumphant return, so did the Tiki Bar, becoming the home for Blue Lizard events too numerous to mention. It’s still there, mixing Coco Locos for the gals from Poco and even Yaletown.

The room is long, low, and thatched as thickly as Donald Trump’s hair. The tiki count is high: at least TK. The place looks like a Zamboanga souvenir shop exploded. For those looking to live out their Gilligan’s Island fantasies, you’re going to have to stretch it a bit when it comes to picking a partner. Sure, there might be a Ginger type, but she’ll have barbed wire tattoos and her girlfriend will cut you. Best bet: Skipper. And not in the tiki bar; upstairs there are always a few burly seafaring types sitting at the bar, watching sports on the tv and downing beer. If bears aren’t your thing, stay downstairs and you might just find a meandering Mary Ann or partially-pixilated Professor, so don’t be afraid to peek under those umbrellas and ask, “Can I buy you a Mai Tai?”

The true test of a tiki bar is the Mai Tai. Originally made with 17-year-old J. Wray & Nephew rum, it has been reinvented ever since, because within a year of its introduction the world ran out of the key ingredient. That should give you some idea how good it is. Too often, it turns out like a watery, spiked Shirley Temple, with or without loathsome cherry and cartoon-themed garnishes. A real Mai Tai has lots of rum, a smidge of orgeat, and a generous squeeze of fresh lime juice. Maybe grenadine, maybe bar sugar. Sometimes pineapple juice, sometimes something the bartender wishes to clear out under cover of umbrella drinks.