Tomfoolery in the Ice Bar

My not-so-little brother is in Sweden taking in everything that Stockholm has to offer. Which of course meant a trip to the Ice Bar {Something that I have yet to visit in my time here.}. It's a tiny room and it's, well, cold. That doesn't mean that it needs to be boring.

We had the lady at the front door convinced that we were serious about wanting to go into the bar sans shirt. "Um, no, you have to wear the pancho." Two minutes later we let on that there was no way we were going in without the coverall/little-kid-glove-clip combo. During a mixed drink in an ice cup, we decided to do what all good Wisconsin lads should do. Construct an ice-a-mid with the empties laying about.


And why not? With some help from some gentleman in town for the Pride festival, we completed our alcoholic tribute to the pharoahs and forced labor before we lost feeling in our fingers.