SLALOM BAR: Den evil in Lenzerheide
See photos from the Slalom Bar HERE
This is a story about skiing in Switzerland, but before we can get there, I need to tell you about the Slalom Bar. We were told the Slalom Bar is a good place. It is not. It is a fun place. A great place to take photos. And to do a shot. When there are more people, it is probably an amazing place to party. But I see nothing good coming from this den of evil in the shadow of the Rothorn.
We walked in shortly after 11, and there were three people at the bar. One, it turns out, was the manager, Tobias. The other, a short brunette with a cherubic face, was the bartender, Tanya. The third quickly identified himself as a “ski professional.” His name is Theo, and we’ll talk more about him later.
That this trio was bored is only less certain than that they were drunk. At least Theo and Tobias. Tanya just looked bored. But that all came to and end as our crew of six walked in. Tobias said he didn’t care what our nationality is, as long as we drink, and within minutes pulled a plastic crocodile from beneath the bar. The game: each person pushes a tooth; the one who gets his finger chomped buys shots. Theo, meanwhile, started pounding nails into a chopping block for a redneck nail-driving sport played with the sharpened end of a hammer.
We humored them for a few rounds, swung the axe at a few nails. But outside the skies were still dropping snow, and tomorrow promised to be worth staying sober. We only ventured to this place to check out what was described as a veritable museum of skis mounted to the wall, which it was. When we started to refuse the shots, things started to get weird.
Tobias walked to a corner tables, doused it with liquor and set it ablaze. More beers were poured, and more shots, and Theo kept insisting he was our man in Switzerland. “A professional!” he kept demanding. Then Tanya was dispatched upstairs to change the music. “We have a treat for you,” Tobias stammered in his Swiss-German accent. “I don’t do this when people are here. But because you are cool guys, I give you Hells Bells.”
On cue AC-DC starts blaring throughout the small building, the lights go off, and the bar is set on fire. Theo and Tobias reveal themselves as the raging maniacs they are. A sombrero is tossed in the flame. Then the hammer, which is pulled out and left scorching on the floor until Tobias grasps it in his bare hand and tosses it through the open door. Tanya is screaming from the top floor. The place is in a frenzy, and the six of us—the only customers in the place, are merely standing by in witness.
The fire eventually dies, and though we have been enlivened, at the crack of one, in true Swiss precision, we are scuttled out the door. Theo promises to meet us the next morning to tour us around his home resort. “I know all the lines,” he promises. But we are not sure we want his guidance.
See photos from the Slalom Bar HERE
