The New York Bar

Tokyo, Japan

Two nights ago, I fulfilled a dream that I've had for about a year and a half now. I've always wanted to visit the New York Bar on the 52nd floor of the Park Hyatt building in Shinjuku, Tokyo. Mainly because I saw it in "Lost In Translation" (the quintessential movie viewing choice of anyone coming to Japan) and thought it looked freakin' awesome.

I've had a problem with wanting to go to some bars; I build up this image in my mind of what I think it will be like, and I'm always disappointed in some way. It happened with Bungalow 8 and Establishment in Sydney and Trailer Happiness in London, so I was afraid that the New York Bar would maintain the trend.

I could never have been so wrong. It was everything I imagined it would be, and more. High ceilings, wood panels. Low lighting, intimate atmosphere. Live jazz band playing. And a view out over Tokyo that you would pay a cover charge for (which we did).

The three members of the Dandelion Club (Jonny, Phil, and moi) went along to check the bar out. I started with a Negroni, the boys with an Asahi. I knew they sold cigars, so I checked out the list and picked up a Cohibo Siglos II. I matched it up with some Baker's bourbon on the rocks, while Phil went with a Rusty Nail and Jonny chose a 42 Below vodka based cocktail from the house list.

So picture me in black leather shoes, black pants, white long sleeved shirt, suspenders, black tie, bourbon in one hand, cigar in the other, my back to the awesome backdrop of Tokyo in a stunningly amazing bar at the top of a really tall tower in the middle of Japan, and you may see something like this.

This is the shit worth living for.

I'll see if I can get some video we took at the bar up on Youtube later tonight. In the meantime...be content in the knowledge that I've finally found a bar that exceeds all of my expectations, and that I am most definitely returning to before I fly out. Sophia Coppela, Bill Murray, thank you for finding this for me.

The Dandelion Club, by the way, is the name we've coined for anyone who ate the dandelion flower garnish at our Japanese dinner in Niigata. Honestly, with all the "food" on the table, how we were to know that we weren't supposed to eat the damn things?