Forget brains. Forget blood. There is only one thing that the dancing zombies at the Mai-Kai crave: rum barrels.
On Saturday night, the folks at the Mai-Kai Restaurant and Polynesian Show -- everyone's favorite tiki-themed drinking spot -- hosted the Zombie A-Go-Go dance party. (View
our full slide show here.) Partygoers traveled from near and far, arriving in packs with one goal in mind...
dance drink until the bar kicks us out.
The extremely dark room is already packed, and it's barely 10 o'clock. The two-for-one special is a dangerous one, but right now, th last thing on
everyone's mind is the hangover lurking in the shadows. Like a scene out of the Dawn of the Dead, costumed attendees swarm the bar waiting impatiently for their next fix of alcohol. Old-school horror movies are projected on a wall, but the fake-blood-covered partiers are downing drinks so quickly, they barely notice.The piercing noise of a whistle is constantly heard in the background; it seems a referee zombie is taking her costume too seriously. (Note to my future drunken self: Confiscate her whistle.)
The dance floor is slowly but surely becoming packed with folks
gaining quite a bit of liquid courage. I should know -- I'm one of them.
After kicking back four moonkist coconuts, it's nearly impossible to
resist a dance floor when the DJs are pumping out the hits from Iggy
Pop, David Bowie, and James Brown.
"Fight! Fight! Fight!"
screams the crowd.
OK, it didn't actually go down like that.
But it seems a female partygoer may have had too much liquid courage
and incited a fight with another girl. Rumor has it she was bashing the
girls head into the floor. I guess they didn't get the memo that
they shouldn't really act like zombies. Fortunately, this moment of
didn't interrupt the flow of the evening. Actually, it's more like
one of those high school tall tales that nobody really saw but everyone has heard
As the night progresses -- and the drink special extends for an extra
hour -- the faces of friends become one and sweaty bodies intertwine
closer on the dance floor. Wigs fly off; makeup, once properly placed, is
now smeared; and voices appear slowed down and slurred. To an outsider looking in, this scene is a messy one, but to the folks swaying to the beat, the night has just begun.
We're not really sure what is inside of the
magical brown barrels filled
with liquid dreams -- and probably never will. But we do know that a
night of drinking them
certainly brings out the zombie inside of us.
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