Club Scene
Legendary gay bar embraces a changing night scene

By Catherine E. Toth
Advertiser Staff Writer

Regular Rey Lopez of Waikiki enjoys dressing up for the "special parties" at Hula's Bar & Lei Stand in Waikiki. Hula's is a popular nightspot for O'ahu's gay community. Eugene Tanner • The Honolulu Advertiser Hula's Bar & Lei Stand 134 Kapahulu Ave., second floor, Waikiki Grand Hotel 10 a.m.-2 a.m. daily $3 cover after 10 p.m. 923-0669

The swirling lights beckon you through the revolving doors, where shirtless bodies slink and slide to the rhythms, the music dictating every move.

Twirling glowsticks, dance-floor mirrors, disco balls — a never-ending sensual stimulation.

Ravers arrive in glory, with microlights, pacifiers and mini glowsticks in their mouths. Bartenders bustle from the central bar, balancing import beer and candy-colored drinks on small trays, darting among ravers and bystanders.

Couples cuddle in corners. Hook-up hopefuls flirt nervously at the bar. First-timers — and there were few — huddle in the back, watching the scene unfold, the scene with so many lights and bodies and chemical influences that it makes your head spin, makes your mouth water, makes you forget where you are, even just for a moment.

Could be a scene from any club.

But it's not.

Welcome to Hula's, the oldest and best-known nightspot on the gay-dar.

November marks Hula's Bar & Lei Stand's third year in the Waikiki Grand Hotel on Kapahulu Avenue. At 4,000 square feet, the newly defined landmark, once called Hula's on Kuhio Avenue, embraces the changing night scene while retaining the same philosophy that has kept it around for 27 years.

"It's laid back, but it can get pretty extreme," said 26-year-old cocktail server Danny Munoz, working a purple glowstick in his mouth. He waded through the crowd, his black cargo pants with bold silver stars surprisingly not uncommon. The mess of curls on his head bounced with every move.

His glossy good looks, eyes hidden behind Charlie's Angels' frames, sparked eye movements from admiring patrons. He worked the crowd with a tray of longnecks and mixed drinks. A house blend of Depeche Mode's "Enjoy the Silence" screamed over the speakers.

"People just want to get together with friends," he said. "This is a meeting place."

'Safe havens'

Mai Tais, margaritas and Long Islands are the drinks of choice at Hula's. And on nights like these — Hula's plays host to a Fresh party every month — the place was packed. Wall-to-wall bodies, all grooving to the same beat.

But the gay scene in Hawai'i isn't what it used to be. Gone are the days of Hamburger Mary's, Blow Hole, The Stuffed Potato, when Hula's on Kuhio was the center of Waikiki, its trademark banyan tree providing a safe haven for its clientele, a place to be themselves. The new flavors of Angles, Fusion, In Between Waikiki and other bars and clubs that cater to the oft-neglected gay clientele have sprung up all over Waikiki. But, some say, it's just not the same.

"We used to have more people in the past, but it's going back up," said owner Jack Law, who opened Hula's in July 1974.

Having safe havens is important to this community, which faces a staggering — and depressing — amount of discrimination, both subtle and violent.

"You have to be careful who you're with, where you are, everything around you," said Carolyn Golojuch, president of Parents, Family and Friends of Lesbians and Gays (PFLAG).

She knows firsthand how ugly discrimination can get. Her son and many of her friends are gay. She hears about them being subjected to senseless and unprovoked attacks.

She sees these establishments, such as Hula's, as a place for the gay community, estimated at 10 percent of the population, to gather without fear or anxiety.

And Hula's has done more than just provide a gay-friendly place to hang out on weekends.

It has been involved in nonprofit fund-raising for organizations such as the Life Foundation, the Marriage Project and Save the Foodbasket. They're also leading a coalition of gay and lesbian businesses to promote gay tourism in Hawai'i.

Law, who also owns Wave Waikiki, helped create the Life Foundation, the state's largest HIV/AIDS service agency. He also produced the first annual Adam Baran Honolulu Gay Film Festival more than 10 years ago. And he's a member of the Hawai'i Civil Rights Commission.

The location may have changed, but the heart behind Hula's hasn't.

"They called the old place 'The Tree Hula's,'" remembered Law. "The new place they call 'The View Hula's.'"

A fitting name, when you see it. One side of the bar boasts a spectacular view of Diamond Head and Kuhio Beach. An endless sky and an inviting ocean.

During the day, when Hula's becomes more a beach bar, the view is unavoidable.

"It's really two different clubs," Law said.

Sunday afternoons are mellow, rays of the waning sun falling into the club through large picture windows. Saturday nights are hectic and high-energy, with vocal diva house music blaring and sweaty bodies somehow finding their way through all the chaos.

"This place really has the Hawaiian atmosphere, a sense of place," said Law, pointing out the canoe hanging upside-down over the bar, the focal point of the club. "But we're not in the center of Waikiki anymore."

'Old-time favorite'

It's part Duke's Waikiki, part Fusion, part Waikiki kitsch.

"It's a nice atmosphere, conducive to conversation," said 29-year-old David Kurihara, master glowsticker and a Hula's regular from Kailua. "I can see the sunset." He gazed out the large picture windows into the midnight snapshot of a dark, empty Kalakaua Avenue.

"I miss the old Hula's," lamented 32-year-old Rey Lopez, a regular who believes in dressing for the occasion. He turned heads in his black wet suit with a skirt made of glowsticks, topped with a cotton-candy pink wig and matching visor. Herman Munster shoes and face jewels a la Christina Aguilera completed the outfit.

"I got dressed up because it's a special night," he said, reassuringly, using his gloved hands for emphasis. "I usually just wear Polo and high-end tennis shoes."

The Mexico native, who has lived in Hawai'i — more specifically Waikiki — for about 10 years, remembers the Hula's heyday. In fact, he moved to the tourist trap just to be near the place.

"This is what it used to be in the old days," he said about the crowd at Hula's on Saturday night. "If it wasn't for these special parties, it would be a little slow. We're now at the end of Waikiki."

But he calls Hula's an "old-time favorite," a place that has become part of his weekend lineup, where he knows everyone and everyone remembers him. "It's a tradition."