I posted this in another thread.
We ate at ‘Ohana post-covid, taking our son-in-law, who had never been. Our daughter had wonderful childhood memories of the races with the kids and was excited. We had a very lackluster time. We were nowhere near a window, which most people aren’t, and I was glad to see families with young kids have the better seating. But our section was like they needed to up the lighting just a tad. It was dingy, reminding me of seating in a national park cafeteria. Perfectly serviceable, but we felt crowded on every side.
We told our server, who didn’t claim to be a cousin, that we weren’t in a hurry, wanted our first-timer to enjoy the meal, and we would appreciate finishing the starters before moving on to mains. She said, almost snarled, she wasn’t the food runner and had no control over pacing. So soon enough, we had a 4 top crammed with delicious bread, salad that was a tad drowned in the stellar vinaigrette, pot stickers and wings, and also the meats and noodles and veggies. On the one hand it was nice to mix and match, and on the other all I felt was Crowd, all around us—the food runners couldn’t get between our table and the next one one side, and Crowd on the table. By that time, the lapu lapus had long run out, and a glass of wine would have improved much. Our server had a pile of tables. I’ve done my share of waitressing along the way, and I think multiple people must have called off that night. She never stopped. I was torn between empathy and admiring the ability never to catch our eyes, even when we were performing Jedi mind-melds with her. Ricky the son-in-law, who’s a pilot, and makes life and death split second decisions, left, we thought for the bathroom, and came back soon with wine for me, and exotic refills for himself and my daughter his wife. Happily my hubby was stopping at 1, as that was all he could carry . As related in other threads, we found everything fine, most of it lukewarm, and the steak impossible to cut, the chicken dry. Ricky loves peel and eat shrimp and was happy. Dessert arrived while the table was still piled with all the stuff. We refused it until the table was cleared, nicely, and got the special stink-eye reserved for those making life more hellish for an overworked staff. I asked Ricky what he thought, and he said he had no idea you could make that much money by putting a drink in a pineapple.
With all that said, people in first class over by the window seemed to be having a good time, and I imagine a 9 year old could still find it magical. We had a far more magical time on the porch at Jock Lindsay’s, and then on the porch at the Boathouse. We also had a more magical time battling birds for corn dog nuggets at Casey’s. And we had a truly magical time at Boma, then wandering around AKL.