The Wave The instant we saw the lounge area at The Wave, we made dinner reservations for that night. An ethereal blue, semicircular alcove with a low-slung, continuous sofa, almost invisibly extending from the wall, mesmerized us on impact and the sublime details didn’t stop there: the diaphanous curtain, as if spun by Tinkerbell using golden thread culled from the filaments of cocoons spun by magical caterpillars; the carpet of woven water kissed by raindrops and talking fish that formed radiant circles of hidden Mickeys; and lighting taken from Ursula’s Lair, minus the inky swirls of ominous eels. Romantic, alluring, and all with the Disney flair. What could be better? All that with a full bar. Presto, our wish had been granted.

We arrived at cocktail hour and almost ran all the way to our newfound “lair,” which, a bit unexpectedly, was empty. We settled in at the apogee of the curve and ordered a couple of vodka gimlets. Overwhelmed by ebullience, we just sat there, trying to drink in every detail with the yet unspoken fantasy of having such a room in our own home. It was only when our drinks arrived and were placed on the low circular table in front of us that we noticed the little votive candle providing added ambience wasn’t a real candle. How clever, we both acknowledged. And how Disney. It flickered and glowed, yet couldn’t catch anything on fire. How clever. How kid-friendly.

And as if on cue…

Our private tidepool was suddenly overflowing with new life. Screaming and squealing little people accompanied by their bedraggled guardians filled the room with a flurry of activity, save for the adults, who went limp upon hitting the upholstery. Little feet were everywhere, and soon, so were the non-burning candles, which, it turned out, were far more practical than we appreciated. It was impossible to be too upset by the intrusion. After all, the little ones were just reacting with the same inner glee that we had, only, as adults, we were forced to trade bouncing on furniture for alcohol. Fair trade, we accepted at a certain point (in part because ceilings aren’t as high once you’re not so small). The parents, who were outnumbered by offspring 3-1, made feeble attempts to control the situation, but it was impossible, and we reassured them that we understood and our evening wasn’t being ruined. The fact was, we were entertained by the show, and it also didn’t escape us how the dad’s went to the bar to order the drinks instead of waiting with their wives for a server to take their order.

No sooner had the room been overturned when our table was ready, and we somewhat reluctantly swam back up to the surface to follow our hostess to a perfect little table for two.

The room was golden with metallic waves and subtleties of color and shape that created an atmosphere of kinetic calm. The layout of tables was such that one didn’t feel crowded. The larger, family-sized tables were off to the side against the wall, and still more were toward the back, separated by a tasteful partition. We didn’t feel as if we were in a hotel, much less a themed experience. We felt like we were at a nice restaurant that we wished we could be regulars at.

The menu was refreshingly fresh with options designed to please the meat-eater to the fish-lover to the vegetarian. Seasonal and locally sourced vegetables and sustainable fish all speak to the health-conscious diner without turning off those who think “healthy” food is synonymous with packing material.

We left already excited about going back.