I’ve said it more than once before, I hate the cold, and last winter here in Des Moines was just dreadful. Our neighbors to the deep south, Orlando, Florida, to be exact, don’t have this problem. So when they want a really, really, really cold place to hang out, they go to the Ice Bar. For a $35 cover charge which includes a vodka drink, you can spend up to 45 minutes in a bar that is kept at a chilly 27 degrees Fahrenheit. Can you imagine their electric bill? All we would have to do is just turn off the heat and open the doors; I think a Des Moines’ bar’s profit margin would be significantly higher than a bar in Orlando with the cost of air conditioning a bar down to 27 degrees.

Once inside they give their patrons an insulated cape and gloves to help stay warm. Again, if you are in Des Moines in the winter you all ready have these items. Inside the bar the couches, chairs, walls, glasses, the bar and even the fireplace, are all made of ice. The bar is lit in a cool blue color and bartenders and barbacks are dressed in stylish all-white snow suits and Russian-style fur hats. If you think this is a one-of-a-kind bar, think again, these ice bars are popular in Northern Europe and have started to make their way to the US, maybe the Smithsons will open one on Court Avenue.

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On Friday morning I am leaving for an 8-night drip to Provincetown, Massachusetts. For those of you unfamiliar with the city check out the Wikipedia link, but Provincetown is the place where the Pilgrims landed in America and is at the tip end of Cape Cod. Since I will be about 1,400 miles away from Des Moines, and in a resort town with people from all over the country, you end up in conversations about where you are from. I think I should be okay this time just saying I’m from Des Moines, unlike my last trip to Seattle in June. While in Seattle, I would tell people I was from Des Moines and I would never get any follow-up questions, like “What’s it’s like living there?” I found out the reason why only after my return home. There happens to be a suburb of Seattle called Des Moines. So when I was in Seattle, telling people you are from Des Moines, is like being in Des Moines and telling people you are from Ankeny, it’s no big deal.

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