This month we set out with a lofty goal: to assess the state of NAG’s nightlife by interviewing its top bar staff and sampling the best libations the city has to offer.
We were looking for riveting accounts of excessive escapades, heroic achievements of alcoholic prowess, eye popping concoctions… and of course, a good time.
Yet somewhere between the first pitcher of Mojitos and a tricky little number called a Smurf Fart, we became a craven band of alcoholics – more than happy to force our livers to decipher whatever we threw at them.
If a drink had a name that sounded even remotely treacherous (behold the “Pit Bull On Crack”)… or seemed degenerately icky (may we introduce the “Dirty Diaper”) or had a name that made us giggle like little schoolgirls (seriously who is going to turn down a “Rocky Mountain Bear Fuck”?) then we were more than happy to give it a spin.
But all this drinking tended to get in the way of remembering. We generated piles of bar napkins and coasters full of unintelligible gibberish, most of which seemed insanely hysterical at the time.
Unfortunately large swaths of our supposed comedic genius never made it into a written format which was recognizable.
So with that in mind we humbly bring our best recollection of what life is like behind the bars of Nagoya.