What do you do when the only tiki bar in your city closes, you build your own tiki bar in your home!
Ian and Autumn live in Kansas City where the great TikiCat used to be located. Sadly it shutdown. So they decided to build their own tiki bar in their home. The name of their home bar is Creeper’s Cove and it combines the two worlds of horror and tiki together. I always felt that tiki should have an element of danger and when Freddy Krueger and Michael Meyers are sipping Zombies in a tiki bar, you better be careful!
What is the tiki scene like where you live?
Ian- We, Autumn (the Queen of the Cove) and I, grew up in San Diego where tiki was and is in great abundance. Then we moved to New York back in 2013 where, again, we could find bars to enjoy a well-made tropical cocktail. Well, back in 2018, we moved to Kansas City Missouri. To put it simply: it was quite the change. That being said, it was a welcomed one. Among the many differences, access to a Mai Tai was limited. At the time, there was only one tiki bar: TikiCat. Though it was the only, it was by far one of the best, and the local community of tikiphiles were fanatical for this joint, and for good reason. It was set in the basement of a popular bar and restaurant. It had the speakeasy feel and the exclusive vibe that comes with reservation-only admittance. And the decor was stunning. They spared no expense, bringing in some of the biggest names in the industry to create a perfect escapist space. Then the drinks: phenomenal. Bested only by the wonderful human beings that served them. Every drink was made to order, using quality ingredients … it was amazing to have such a wonderful bar in our little Midwestern town. Then Covid. TikiCat closed early during the pandemic and left a massive hole in the tiki world, both locally and nationally. I won’t get into the specifics behind its closing, but it’s tragic, and we miss it every day. However, as with most things, there is a silver lining. One of course being that it gave us the nudge to create our home bar, and, two, the tiki peeps came out in force, made themselves known to one another, and have all rallied to support one another. The main person leading that charge would be Diana Condori, former bar manager at TikiCat.
She has since started a tiki pop-up company called Condor’s Cove where she takes over local bars and restaurants and public spaces to provide the TikiCat-esque experience we have all been missing. Beyond that, she is hoping to open a new bar at some point, but plans to do so with the hard-earned wisdom given to an industry employee that just survived a global shutdown. So, to your question, how is the tiki scene in Kansas City? Well, it was pretty damn good, but it appears to be getting better and stronger than it ever was before. New establishments like Tiki Huna have sprung up. Interest in tiki and thoughtful-tropical is increasing, and the number of quality home tiki bars is on the rise.
What brought you into the tiki lifestyle and how long has it been part of your life?
Ian- As mentioned previously, we grew up in cities that have long-standing tiki traditions, with access to a plethora of bars in which to indulge our tropical tendencies. Because of this, having a home tiki bar wasn’t really a necessity; we could always go out and find a Doctor Funk or Painkiller. We’ve enjoyed that luxury, at least on a conscious level, since our early 20’s. So, going on 15 years, give or take. But it wasn’t until the pandemic that it all really ramped up and we committed to a full, rum-couraged dive.
Can you give a little history of how it all came together?
Ian- Obviously, it wasn’t as much of a gut punch for us as it was to the amazing staff, but when TikiCat closed … we were crippled. Okay, maybe too extreme of a word. But we were incredibly upset. It had quickly become one of our favorite bars, a staple for places to visit when friends or family came into town. It was the exact escapist bar we needed having recently moved to this Midwestern city that was unlike anything we’d ever experienced. It made all the day-to-day change manageable. So, for a few days after getting word, we just really had a hankering for a Mai Tai. Well, we picked up the ingredients from our local liquor store and started shaking up rounds. One went down easy. Two and three easier. At some point, we ran out of ice, ran out of rum, and the room–which at that point was just a sparsely-furnished, wood-paneled cigar space–faded to black. We woke up the next day with a low balance notification from our bank. Thinking fraud, we looked into it, and found that no, the charges were legit. We made them. They, and by “they” I do mean to imply that there were many, were charges for mugs and glassware and syrups. Over the next few weeks, our front porch was littered with cardboard boxes. By early May 2020, Creeper’s Cove was learning to crawl, and it wouldn’t take the lil guy long to be up and running. By late June, we had established an Instagram page and really started leaning into the whole “tiki” thing. The community was so supportive and made it all that much easier to become obsessed. Not sure whether we should thank or curse them. It’s been a little over a year now and we have an awesome group of followers and made some amazing life-long friends. We’ve also hosted fundraisers for causes that are very dear to us (Stop AAPI Hate, raised over $1000), created some fun merch, and recently kicked off a little paranormal tiki show called Dark Paradise in which we make tropical cocktails and discuss the unexplainable and paranormal in the countries that we consider tiki.
Any story behind the name of your bar?
Ian- We knew that we wanted it to appropriately convey our love for the darker side of things. And being that we always had the intention of it being a horror movie-themed tropical bar (specifically late 70’s and 80’s slasher movies), the name needed to be, well, creepy. So, we started there. Played with some alliteration, and quickly landed on Creeper’s Cove. From there, the mythology of its conception came into view. Like any memorable night spent on a stool in a dimly-lighted bar, we knew that Creeper’s Cove needed a backstory, a larger than life tale to share with guests. This is what we came up with …
To say we — as in Autumn and I — started Creeper’s Cove in May of 2020 would be true. But only partly so. You see, in some small way, we were always meant to be the keepers of this haunted home hideaway for tiki creeps, lurking class zeros, and lovers of all things horror, sci-fi, and paranormal. Fate? Maybe. Or perhaps something more sinister. Either way … it’s been a wild ride so far, and only appears to be getting wilder.
Our house in Kansas City, Missouri was once the childhood home of a certain junior enlisted seaman recruit, Raymond L. Potter. Casualty of the short breath between wars — a lost time devoid of naval glory between the end of WWII and the start of the Korean War. But it wasn’t a bullet, blade, or bomb that freed him from the world of the living. No. It was his fellow seamen. By way of hazing. A bad joke. Teasing gone horribly wrong.
While on shore leave, a group of would-be-Romeo’s in their Liberty cuffs decided — for a simple laugh — to bring along “the Creeper.” This was Ray Potter’s nickname. A fitting descriptor for a young man suffering from a debilitating case of social awkwardness, and would most certainly find himself on what we refer to today as the Spectrum. As the hours passed and the glasses — both tall and short — were emptied, the now well-lubricated gears in the seamen’s brains were put into motion. Ideas were concocted. Glances were shared. And a prank on the Navy’s fool was kicked off with a forked-tongue’s whisper: buy me a drink, sailor?
The sailors convinced a beautiful woman to seduce the Creeper. Or, more accurately, they convinced the woman to convince the Creeper that he was being seduced. Poor Ray Potter was not much of a drinker. The very idea of being in a bar full of strangers made him sweat profusely and his bloodshot eyes blink wildly. But there was something in this woman’s voice, or maybe it was the sugary warmth of the rum, that eventually put him at ease. Quieted his shaking hands and righted the stammer in his hushed, one-word responses. I’m with … friends, he thought. She likes me, he thought. And the other sailors laughed behind his back.
When she returned to the bar for another round — on the Creeper’s now bloated tab — the sailors instructed her to invite him to a nearby cove. Some place quiet. Where they could be alone. She agreed and made her way back to the Creeper. The sailors watched shamelessly as she leaned in close, her naval pressed into his hip, her hand on his stomach, her lips to his ear. In a moment, Ray blushed and smiled. They got him. The sailors fell over themselves in wild howls and the clanking of near-empty glasses.
The woman led the now drunk Ray Potter out of the bar, past the docks, and down to the shore. She was far from sober herself, but nowhere near the level of intoxication the poor Creeper was experiencing. He stumbled and she was forced to pick him up and practically carry him to the nearby cove. When finally, they arrived, Ray Potter was far gone. He collapsed face down in the wet sand. She tried to move him, but it was useless. He was dead weight. She gave up. Could no longer find anything humorous in this game. So, she left and made her way back to the bars in search of another tab, another American sailor to take care of her.
The night went on and the tide slowly rose until finally it reached Ray. He drowned that night. Alone on the shore of a dark cove in a country far from his home. The next morning his shipmates sailed off. Everyone forgot about ‘ol Ray. No mention or thoughts of Creeper. It’s been said that for some time since his death, people who wander that cove at night will hear an awful moaning. And worse yet, some actually stumble upon its source. They see a skeletal apparition. The ghost of Creeper. It became known as Bones the Beachmoaner.
Now the story doesn’t simply end there. You see, Autumn and I unknowingly moved into the childhood home of the aforementioned Ray Potter, in Kansas City, Missouri. And at some point, during quarantine, we made a round of homemade Mai Tais to ease the pain. Apparently, that mixture of rum and lime and curaçao and orgeat being poured from a shaker into a double old-fashioned glass called the Creeper’s spirit back home. Imagine our surprise when after a couple heavy pours a skeleton appeared in our modest drinking lounge. It didn’t take Bones the Beachmoaner long to make his desires known: we were to create a haunted home hideaway for other tiki creeps. A space for the outcasts. The wicked. The forgottens. I was to be his familiar and resident bartender. Autumn was to be the Queen of the Cove, her voice the siren’s song to all the fellow creeps.
What is your favorite Tiki drink?
Ian- Well this question is damn near impossible to answer. We love practically all of them. But if we must narrow it down to one (or two), we’d have to go with the Doctor Funk. Aside from the colorful history of the drink, and its having been named after an actual person — the doctor of Robert Louis Stevenson — the cocktail is delicious. Complex and unlike anything we’d ever had; it’s precisely the exotic concoction we want when in desperate need of release from monotony. The Bitter Mai Tai is a VERY close second. We drink both often.
What is your favorite Tiki bar? Not including your own!
Ian- Again, with the hard questions! TikiCat was certainly up there. There are so many amazing bars that are unique and wonderful in their own way, but I would have to say Tiki Ti is our favorite. Again, it’s all about history. Few bars have the history that Tiki Ti has. The whole story of Ray Buhen and his work with Donn Beach. Its family owned and operated. Small and tight and intimate. Plus, I’m a first generation Filipino American, so, the Tiki Ti holds a special place in my heart. I lost my mother to Covid back in December of 2020. For obvious reasons, I was and still am devastated by her passing. When I was really starting to learn about tiki and researching its beginnings, I came upon the stories of the Filipino bartenders that worked for Donn Beach and how, arguably, they are the reason we have so many of the beloved drinks we have today. Without them, this tiki thing that we love may not be the same. Well, I was really looking forward to sharing that with my mother. Tiki has become much more to me and Autumn than drinks and escapism, in many ways it’s helped me find myself, inspired me to learn more about my ancestry, and connect to my Filipino roots. I hope to return to Tiki Ti soon and look forward to raising a Ray’s Mistake in honor of my mother. Mabuhay!
Outside of great drinks, what do you think are essential elements in creating the perfect Tiki environment?
Ian- You know, there are so many “rules” when it comes to Tiki. No screens. No white walls or ceilings. No windows. This whole discussion of what’s authentic tiki is exhausting and laughable. Tiki is itself inauthentic. So, f*ck it. Decorate it however you want. Play whatever music you like, it doesn’t have to be Arthur Lyman or Martin Denny all the damn time. Watch horror movies! Get Star Wars-y with it. From the immortal words of the Digital Underground: Smell how you like. But don’t skimp on the quality rum and fresh ingredients, and always surround yourself with kind people. Tiki for us, whatever the environment, is about community; it’s all about the people.
What does the future hold for you and your home tiki bar?
Ian- Well, we want to continue to grow and meet more amazing humans. We want to host more charity events and fundraisers to support causes that we care about. We want to have fun with our show: Dark Paradise. We want to host fellow tiki creeps for SINema Saturdays and wild spookeasy gatherings. We want to create more new and original cocktails that maybe we can compile and turn into a book someday. And lastly, we want to continue to educate ourselves and learn to be more sustainable and socially conscious in respect to the cultures that inspire this tropical escapism.
Awesome! Chucky scares me!