I had high expectations that Kowloon would live up to its larger-than-life Route 1 surroundings, and I was not disappointed. I walk into the Tiki Lagoon room, and I'm instantly in love with the retro ideal of paradise. The lagoon is a big water fountain separating a long row of booths. It's all surrounded by fake palm trees. Much to my chagrin, I'm led past the Tiki Lagoon and taken to the Volcano Bay room. It's a high-camp hall with a faux volcano in a constant state of eruption. Nearby is an area that looks like the deck of a ship where a band plays Norah Jones and Madonna songs. I resist the urge to request Herb Alpert and Don Ho.

One of my criteria for a good tiki restaurant is no windows (the other prerequisites are Keno and slightly offensive drink descriptions), and Kowloon is mostly windowless. These restaurants were all about escaping middle-class life, so instead of windows, walls were covered with dioramas of exotic island scenes. Service is quick and efficient. Our pu pu platter arrives about five minutes after drinks. I quickly remember that the flame in the pu pu platter is more decorative than functional. My teriyaki has the zesty tang of charred kerosene after I attempt to heat it over the flame.