Catherine Price by 101 Places Not to See Before You Die Page A
Authors: 101 Places Not to See Before You Die
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and, yes, Minneapolis. Some American bars also offer nantaimori : sushi served on a naked man.
But despite its questionable morals and hygiene, nyotaimori is not the grossest Japanese food custom out there. That honor goes to wakame sake . Translated as seaweed sake, it’s a delicacy where a naked, supine model clamps her thighs together to form a triangular cup. Sake is poured down her body and into the indentation. As it fills, the woman’s pubic hair begins to gently undulate in the warm sake, similar—say the poets—to seaweed swaying in the ocean. Then a drunk businessman leans down and slurps it out of her crotch.
Delicious.
Chapter 26 Organ Pipe Cactus National monument
S ituated on the U.S.-Mexico border in Arizona, Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument is a 330,689-acre piece of the Sonoran Desert best known not just for its wildlife or iconic organ-pipe cacti but for its status as a border crossing for drug traffickers. The U.S. Park Rangers Lodge of the Fraternal Order of Police named Organ Pipe the most dangerous national park in the United States, and National Geographic describes it as a place where park rangers “wear camouflage, carry assault rifles, and chase drug smugglers through the blazing desert.” “They’re at the front lines of a violent border war,” says the magazine, “and they’re losing.” In 2002, a twenty-eight-year-old ranger was shot and killed while attempting to help border control agents catch two men suspected in a drug-related quadruple murder, and in 2002, rangers seized 14,000 pounds of pot from the park—a third of the total seized in all national parks and monuments combined.
This doesn’t deter visitors—with up to one thousand guests per night, Organ Pipe leads the national parks in the number of backcountry stays. Granted, most of those visitors have entered the United States illegally through the park’s thirty-one-mile border with Mexico (park rangers advise what to do if you come across people in distress asking for food and water). But if they’re willing to deal with the desert’s 116-degree summer heat, venomous snakes, spiders, scorpions, centipedes, and, of course, drug traffickers, perhaps it’s only fair to let them stay the night.
Chapter 27 Times Square on New Year’s Eve
T here are only two circumstances where a dropping ball can qualify as a noteworthy event: male adolescence and New Year’s Eve in Times Square. Having had no personal experience with the first, I will instead skip to the second and say that if you value your sanity, your extremities, and your bladder, you should find a different place to celebrate the new year.
The tradition goes back to 1904, when Adolph S. Ochs, owner of the New York Times , threw a party on New Year’s Eve to celebrate the opening of the newspaper’s headquarters at what is now One Times Square. With an all-day street festival and a thrilling fireworks display, Ochs’s party was so successful that it quickly became New York’s premier New Year’s Eve party.
The New Year’s ball didn’t come into play till 1907, however, when Ochs commissioned a 700-pound iron-and-wood ball with one hundred 25-watt lightbulbs to be lowered from the tower’s flagpole to celebrate 1908. Since then it’s been replaced several times—1920 introduced a 400-pound ball made of wrought iron; 1955 saw the debut of a 150-pound aluminum sphere. In 1980, red lightbulbs and a stem turned the ball into an apple for the “I Love New York” marketing campaign, and the millennium celebration was graced by a ball made from Waterford Crystal. In 2009, the co-organizers of the celebration unveiled the latest ball: twelve feet in diameter, it’s covered in crystals and more than thirty-two thousand LEDs. At around six tons, it puts previous balls to shame.
But even a six-ton ball is not enough to justify spending your New Year’s Eve in the Square. Back in the good old days, drunken revelers packed themselves behind wooden
But despite its questionable morals and hygiene, nyotaimori is not the grossest Japanese food custom out there. That honor goes to wakame sake . Translated as seaweed sake, it’s a delicacy where a naked, supine model clamps her thighs together to form a triangular cup. Sake is poured down her body and into the indentation. As it fills, the woman’s pubic hair begins to gently undulate in the warm sake, similar—say the poets—to seaweed swaying in the ocean. Then a drunk businessman leans down and slurps it out of her crotch.
Delicious.
Chapter 26 Organ Pipe Cactus National monument
S ituated on the U.S.-Mexico border in Arizona, Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument is a 330,689-acre piece of the Sonoran Desert best known not just for its wildlife or iconic organ-pipe cacti but for its status as a border crossing for drug traffickers. The U.S. Park Rangers Lodge of the Fraternal Order of Police named Organ Pipe the most dangerous national park in the United States, and National Geographic describes it as a place where park rangers “wear camouflage, carry assault rifles, and chase drug smugglers through the blazing desert.” “They’re at the front lines of a violent border war,” says the magazine, “and they’re losing.” In 2002, a twenty-eight-year-old ranger was shot and killed while attempting to help border control agents catch two men suspected in a drug-related quadruple murder, and in 2002, rangers seized 14,000 pounds of pot from the park—a third of the total seized in all national parks and monuments combined.
This doesn’t deter visitors—with up to one thousand guests per night, Organ Pipe leads the national parks in the number of backcountry stays. Granted, most of those visitors have entered the United States illegally through the park’s thirty-one-mile border with Mexico (park rangers advise what to do if you come across people in distress asking for food and water). But if they’re willing to deal with the desert’s 116-degree summer heat, venomous snakes, spiders, scorpions, centipedes, and, of course, drug traffickers, perhaps it’s only fair to let them stay the night.
Chapter 27 Times Square on New Year’s Eve
T here are only two circumstances where a dropping ball can qualify as a noteworthy event: male adolescence and New Year’s Eve in Times Square. Having had no personal experience with the first, I will instead skip to the second and say that if you value your sanity, your extremities, and your bladder, you should find a different place to celebrate the new year.
The tradition goes back to 1904, when Adolph S. Ochs, owner of the New York Times , threw a party on New Year’s Eve to celebrate the opening of the newspaper’s headquarters at what is now One Times Square. With an all-day street festival and a thrilling fireworks display, Ochs’s party was so successful that it quickly became New York’s premier New Year’s Eve party.
The New Year’s ball didn’t come into play till 1907, however, when Ochs commissioned a 700-pound iron-and-wood ball with one hundred 25-watt lightbulbs to be lowered from the tower’s flagpole to celebrate 1908. Since then it’s been replaced several times—1920 introduced a 400-pound ball made of wrought iron; 1955 saw the debut of a 150-pound aluminum sphere. In 1980, red lightbulbs and a stem turned the ball into an apple for the “I Love New York” marketing campaign, and the millennium celebration was graced by a ball made from Waterford Crystal. In 2009, the co-organizers of the celebration unveiled the latest ball: twelve feet in diameter, it’s covered in crystals and more than thirty-two thousand LEDs. At around six tons, it puts previous balls to shame.
But even a six-ton ball is not enough to justify spending your New Year’s Eve in the Square. Back in the good old days, drunken revelers packed themselves behind wooden
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