Over the years we’ve seen many big, ambitious, and elaborate events—but this one will probably hold the number one spot forever.
For Baselworld, the world’s largest jewelry and watch fair, we were booked with a team of five show bartenders. As part of a 60-person catering crew, our job was to host the guests of a well-known watch manufacturer on two evenings—embedded in a kind of science-fiction variety theatre with actors, singers, and dancers.
The location was the underground construction site of a highway interchange. The organizer had even secured a full construction stop for it. The tunnels were transformed into a stage set: bars and platforms were built, and the entire kitchen and storage area was installed. Planning and pre-production took several months. Everything was based on a science-fiction storyline.
There was good and evil, matching costumes for everyone (including service and bar), and a script that the evening was supposed to follow. Acting and musical scenes were interrupted by catering phases. Soup came down from the ceiling in plastic bags on ropes; finger food was served in petri dishes.
Our part, of course, was the bar: preparing futuristic recipes served in mason jars—and at certain times, doing show segments behind (and even on) the counter. We rehearsed for a full week, and we slept in an air-raid shelter (the Swiss really have those!). Hotels in Basel were fully booked by exhibitors and visitors of the fair. So far, so fantastic—but now it really starts :-)
Then came the evening of the dress rehearsal, when the show was presented to the watch company’s decision-makers. A mere formality? Not at all—the gentlemen were “not amused”. Too complicated, too distant in execution. Not exactly easy consumption for tired trade-fair visitors who needed to be excited quickly, fed and watered, and then brought back to their hotels.
We’ll never forget the boss’s dry sentence: “it’s a lot of money!” In the hours that followed, the entire concept was cut down. Musical numbers were dropped and sequences were shortened. Voices rose, and tears were shed.
Our contribution to saving the night was suggesting that we should offer familiar recipes—drinks the guests already knew, and that we knew would get the crowd up to “operating temperature” fast. That’s what we did. In this shortened version, it was probably a great spectacle for the invited guests after all.
What we remember most is the sheer scale of the project—and we don’t envy the organizers the challenge of having to top themselves with a new superlative every year.
Your moving bars Team