Why You’ll End Up at Hula’s (Even If You Swear You Won’t)
Every gay in Honolulu has said it: “Let’s do something different tonight.” Yet somehow, by the magic of tropical gravity and maybe a happy hour mojito, your flip-flopped feet find themselves marching straight into Hula’s. Again. You didn’t mean to go. And yet—there you are, catching up with half your Instagram grid on the lanai, wondering if this counts as cardio. (It does.)
It’s not basic—it’s legendary. The views are iconic, the drinks are strong, and there’s something delightfully unhinged about ending your night with a drag queen yelling into a microphone over a Britney remix while a tourist from Milwaukee loses their mind. The bartenders remember you. The tourists want to be you. And the locals? They’re pretending they don’t love it. (They do. They definitely do.)
Sure, you could wander. But where, exactly? Bacchus? Please. In Between? LOL. Seriously. If you're actually craving something different, there’s the freshly invigorated Tapas—yes, she got a glow-up. Suddenly there’s a real vibe: music, men, mood lighting, and events that actually slap. And then there’s Wang Chung’s, where karaoke meets chaos in the best way. One minute it’s a twink singing Lady Gaga, the next it’s a retired flight attendant belting showtunes like she’s gunning for a comeback. It’s weird. It’s wonderful. It’s everything.
Friends meet up at Hula’s.
But still, somehow… you’ll end up back at Hula’s. Maybe it’s the sunset. Maybe it’s the shirtless bartender who remembered your name. Or maybe it’s just that some legends don’t need reinventing. So go ahead, pretend you’re “just stopping by for one.” But pack a backup fan, a smile, and maybe some glitter. Because if you’re gay in Waikiki, Hula’s isn’t just a bar. It’s an inevitability.
