Half a croissant, on a plate, with a sign in front of it saying '50c'
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Suspension Bar

Bar on a crane above a rocking crowd of punters.
  (+10, -1)(+10, -1)
(+10, -1)
  [vote for,

James Brown has just finished his mind-bendingly soultastic funkathon set on stage, ending with a biologically perplexing splits jump, the likes of which would have killed any other 96 year old human instantly.

You're standing amongst an enormous throng of sweaty, heaving homo-sapiens, all cheering, jeering, shouting and bouncing, awaiting the arrival of the Red Hot Chilli Peppers onto the stage as the sun over the Central London park beats down with its gorgeous warmth.

You're thirsty from the heat, from the dancing, from the smoking. A thirst entirely dissimilar to that experienced during a Saharan adventure, or the morning after the Xmas party. No, you're thirsty for one thing, it sure ain't water, and that thirst must be quenched, and soon, as time is running out...

You need it.
You NEED beer.

One of your friends has given in to his thirst and has bade his farewells to the rest of the group, hopeful of seeing his compadres amongst the crowd upon his return. He will never be seen again...

Just as you are about to ruin your enjoyment of the impending funk-rock fusion by making your way to the bar a dark shadow casts itself over you and your companions like a space craft from the heavens blotting out the sun. You look up to see a great square silhouette slowly descending, the sun's crest peering round the side of it forcing you to cover your eyes as you gaze in bewilderment at the ghostly monolith. This enormous craft lowers itself slowly towards you, seemingly rippling with unseen activity around its edges.

The craft stops but a foot from your head and to your wonderment a blonde Australian girl leans over the top. Her hair trickles over her ear and forehead as she looks at you, into your eyes. She utters in an angelic voice,
"What can I get ya, mato?"
You stammer in response, "... beer..."
"£3, cheers! Enjoying yerself?"
"... yes..." you manage to whimper, and then "...I love you..."
"What was that? Here's ya lager mate." She turns to someone else. "Yes mate, what can I get ya?"

The floating bar ebbs away bringing alcoholic joy to the masses as it passes. With only a minute left to go before the Chillis take the stage, the crane begins to haul its booze-dispensing cargo up and out of the crowd's view. Eyes turn back to the stage.

Except maybe yours, transfixed on the place where Sheila once was. You already miss her, such a fleeting moment.

You sip your Fosters and pray there's a gap between the end of the show and the encore...

theleopard, Dec 19 2006

Suspension Restaurant http://www.dinnerinthesky.com/
We have the technology!
[theleopard, Feb 25 2008, last modified Feb 27 2008]

Alternative solution to a similar problem Trapeze_20bar_20staff
[theleopard, Feb 27 2008]

Small bar crane could be used at the spider library Spiderweb_20Hammock_20Library
[theleopard, Feb 27 2008]

For [skinflaps] http://www.ravensbr...iles/kopiluwak.html
The rarest gourmet coffee, at £10 a cup, not only tastes like it has been through a cat, it actually has been through a cat. [theleopard, Apr 10 2008]


       Excellent! All you need now is the Suspension Toilets.
hippo, Dec 19 2006

       Which would create a whole new meaning to the phrase, "Go piss up a rope," I suppose...
theleopard, Dec 19 2006

       Hippo beat me to it.
Galbinus_Caeli, Dec 19 2006

       What about incorporating a portable toilet system into the crane bar. Drop down containers connected by hose with a mask like attachment. Urinate into the catchment, which then is taken back up, or you can pass to the fellow next to you. Not sure how the ladies would go though...
theleopard, Dec 19 2006

       Pft Fosters. I once won a bar fight because I was so pissed that a guy hit me with a bottle of Fosters that I was granted superhuman strength by the Irish Beer Gods within me.   

       [+] for the idea, as long as when you ask for a beer they don't just assume that you want a Fosters.
tastycat, Dec 19 2006

       Certainly not, it just fit with the Aussie barmaid.   

       Though I'm sure there are plenty of Aussies here that would protest to the notion of Foster's as an Australian lager...
theleopard, Dec 19 2006

       Make it a Tooheys New, Fosters tastes like it's been through a cat.
skinflaps, Dec 19 2006

       It would be normal gig lager, which usually means the lager of the gig's sponsor, quite often Carling or Budweiser. There's nothing I can do about that, that's just gigs for you. If Fosters are the sponsors you've got a choice of Fosters or Fosters Lite I'm afraid. Of course they'd also sell bottled water and maybe if you're lucky a nice rum and coke...?   

       At the bigger, hotter, more dangerous gigs the Suspension Bar would also be equiped with sprinkler systems to douse the steamy bodies below.   

       I was thinking the beer lines and water mains could be connected to the bar via the crane cable rather than having the bar hold it's own supply of water/beer etc.   

       I think this is a genuinely workable and good idea, one that I would have sincerely savoured at the last gig I went to as there was a large thirsty gap between the God-awful support act and Tenacious D rocking the house out.
"Come fly with me, Fly!"
theleopard, Dec 19 2006

       I thought Tenacious D were a God-awful support act. How long have I been asleep?
Texticle, Dec 19 2006

       Tenacious D are a damn fine band, and Jack Black is an amusing and vibrant front man. So there.   

       The support act was a guy called Neil Hamburger, a drunk stand-up comedian supposedly from the 1920s telling topical (and shockingly bad) jokes and having various things thrown at him, like plastic cups, lighters and sweetcorn.
theleopard, Dec 20 2006

       Honestly, you can't. You just can't.   

       We had a guy quit from our work because we played TD. What better kudos can you give than that?
NotTheSharpestSpoon, Dec 21 2006

       [spoon] that's impressive. I've never heard of anyone leave their job due to too much rockin' out-ah.   

       [phlish], this line always had me perplexed...   

       "I see you walkin', but all I can think about is
Dianetics, your butt cheeks is warm."
theleopard, Dec 21 2006

       //Bar on a crane above a rocking crowd of punters//   

       What could possibly go wrong?
nomocrow, Feb 26 2008

       I presume that "provision for necessity" would be provided along with appropriate tranquilizers if somebody flips out, like on an airplane.
WcW, Feb 26 2008

       I don't even think they sell fosters in Australia. The company should be shut down by convincing the rest of the world that we're all happy to imbibe putrid crap like that.
Custardguts, Feb 26 2008

       Cripes, I didn't think it would cause this much of a kafuffle. I only chose Fosters for realism. It's a gig lager, so, as [skinflaps] so eloquently put it, it has to taste like it's been through a cat.   

       (Not me, by the way. Another cat.)
theleopard, Feb 27 2008

       //Fosters tastes like it's been through a cat//   

       [skinfalps], saw this in the Metro today [linky]. DId you intend to imply that Fosters is an expensive and unique gourmet beverage?
theleopard, Apr 10 2008


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