646.905.2274
Holy shit! What a fucking place. When I first saw the fact that you fish, actually fish for your dinner my inner cynic said 'gimmick.' That is until the drum start banging and a bunch of Asians started yelling Japanese chants. Then our barely understandable server, dishes out fishing licenses and cool weird freeze-dried hand towels and boom, I'm wearing a poncho yelling Japanese chants and drinking $300 bottles of saki! Now I'm beating on the drum myself, while my half-eaten freshly caught fist sits on my plate five feet away.
Iconman, calm down, how was the food? Who fucking cares? I just caught it. It was alive like ten seconds ago. Yeah, yeah, maybe says my inner cynic, or maybe there's a tank in the back and you're eating frozen fish shipped in. Fuck you inner cynic! What do you know, you fucking wet blanket? They let me beat the drum and since I don't speak Japanese and they let me yell whatever I want, like "catch the fish, fishy fish, fish!" And I still have the legally binding fishing license. Cockhead. So cool, so pessimistic. They wouldn't let you beat the drum.
Worth a try, bring your wallet.
23 hours ago
