Norwegian Epic’s Ice Bar is of course one of the ship’s most unique features. Inspired by the Ice Bar in Stockholm (and beyond), it’s the exact same concept: you queue up at a designated hour, don a quite attractive pewter-colored nylon parka-poncho with fake fur hoodie, slip on some wool gloves, and head inside. About 20 people at a time can participate (you’re asked to show up on the hour, put on the protective gear, and then enter at half past, from 5 – 11 p.m.). Cost is $20 per person, and you get two tickets each for pre-made vodka drinks (think vodka/peach schnapps or vodka/Curacao) that are ice-like looking. And warming…
This is a “chalk this up to an experience” experience. The oddity of it makes the group of 20 strangers come together as if at a very civilized cocktail party (albeit one that takes place in Lapland in January). You’re very social if only because you’re trying to distract yourself from the fear that you might be getting cold, even with the extra outerwear! And be forewarned: Those who wear flip-flops do so at their own peril (beyond worries of frostbite, you might also slip; the floor slides a bit here and there where touches of ice have melted).
Though reservations are generally suggested, I just stopped on by (slow night? 5 spaces were available). I was on Deck 7, wandering past the Ice Bar enroute to Bar Central, and I was intrigued by a gaggle of people donning grey coats as if to embark on an Arctic expedition. I paid my $20, got my drink tickets and my gloves, and headed on in.
The actual time you spend inside maxes out at 45 minutes; most can’t take it much longer than a half hour or so before the cold penetrates, says Romeo, the Filipino bartender on duty for this shift. He can handle two Ice Bar sessions in a row (with a 15 minute break in between to warm up — and he does dress in layers), and then he moves on to warmer climes in Bar Central or elsewhere.
Tonight, we’re drinking our cocktails in plastic cups; Romeo says that the machine that makes the ice goblets is on the fritz. I frankly think the plastic’s easier to hang on to.
Beyond feverish chatting through clicking teeth, the big fun is to take silly photos of all and sundry. The furniture — yes there’s furniture — looks reasonably comfortable for a loveseat made out of ice, but, and I’m not sure you can see the terror in my face, some earlier patron has apparently warmed it up to the extent that it now slopes. Sit gingerly.
As the last of us headed out, having spent some 40 minutes in a glass-and-color-infused meat locker, Romeo endured one patron’s final question: “What did you do wrong to get assigned to this bar?” With a gentle smile and a ready quip he retorted, “Hey, we have the coolest job in town.”
I’m thinking that Paul (pictured first), a London-based cruise fan who’s onboard for this short sailing and then beyond, could help out if need be. Noting that he simply doesn’t feel the cold the way others do, he took off his parka shortly after entering — and stuck around for a good half hour in only his shirt sleeves (yes, his arms did have goose bumps!).