One day I will tell you about my visit to the Tsukijii Fish Market to eat the world’s freshest sushi. One day I will tell you about visiting the Tokyo Imperial Palace, an opportunity available only twice a year, for the New Year’s Greeting. But today, I will tell you about my visit to the Icebar Tokyo in December of 2006, an experience everyone should partake in whether it be in Jukkasjärvi, Sweden or Sharm El Sheikh, Egypt.
After a week in Tokyo where my friends and I had seen and done just about everything including preparing for a festive New Year’s celebration, I needed to plan something special that would rally the troops who were beginning to show signs of libation fatigue. Unbeknownst to them, I made a reservation for the Icebar and proceeded to convince them that tonight, we would take it easy.
Unable to communicate the address to the taxi driver, we were running late for our appointment and I grew increasingly anxious. My friends began to question what I was up to, an accusation I deflected by pointing out the window and exclaiming, “Oh wow, look at that!”
After more argument with the taxi driver, we arrived at our igloo. Actually, from the outside you wouldn’t even know it was a bar let alone a frozen one. Once inside, the secret was revealed and everyone’s spirits were lifted.
We were each given space suit coats to protect against the Arctic frost and instructions that we could only survive inside for a period of 45 minutes. Indeed, the bartenders themselves were rotated on quick shifts to prevent a worker’s compensation claim of frostbite.
Safety instructions noted, hazmat suits zipped, we made it inside and ordered a round of drinks.
We ended up with a pun of stories:
So how much does a polar bear weigh?
Enough to break the ice; how are you my name is Alex…
