The Waldorf Astoria on the Shanghai Bund is a classy joint; no, the Waldorf Astoria is The Classy Joint.

Upon walking into this stately establishment, one generally feels euphoria concerning a generation that lived far before our own: the Roaring 20’s. Oh, the gold-plated walls, the Swarovski crystal chandeliers, the bellmen with goofy purple hats, the Corinthian columns possibly used to recreate the gaudy nature of ancient Greek living, the luxury; I am instantly enveloped by a culture that I can’t fully understand, namely due to its passing nearly 90 years prior. I do, however, feel out of place. A 20-year-old kid surely cannot afford to even dream of staying at such an establishment; my bi-weekly RA salary barely covers my basic “going out” expenses. But lucky for me, no person checks to determine your monetary worth upon entering; I am viewed as another paying customer dressed in semi-formal garb that screams “yuppy,” or young professional.

So I ventured into this hotel on a Thursday night with no reservation, intending to see the fabled Long Bar. This lounge, formally named The Shanghai Club, was home to the longest free-standing bar (43 meters, to be precise) in the world when it was built in the early 1910s, although it no longer holds that record. But the length of the bar is not what stuns; the 20’s décor, the lush seating, the pictures from long ago on the walls and the rhythms of live jazz usher you into an ambiance that forces questioning concerning the mystery of its past. I can only imagine in the days of the foreign concessions, when the port was the main source of income and foreigners ran the town, one could walk into this bar and expect to see the wealthiest of European and American businessmen enjoying a smoke and a drink whilst being entertained by the best instrumentals and vocals money could import. If you didn’t have business here, you wouldn’t be allowed. You can sense the exclusivity, the secretive nature of such a bar. Yet I was freely allowed to make my way to a table where a regal Chinese waiter took my drink order: the infamous Waldorf.

(Don’t get me wrong; I am very much a poor college kid. I am, however, smart with my money and choose to spend it on experiences I will remember, hence the rationale for going to such a garish bar.)

My table was directly opposite the African American jazz singer whose vocal talent rivaled some of the best I’ve heard in my short lifetime. I pulled a Brazilian cigar out of my left inside jacket pocket and asked for a lighter and cutter as the waiter brought my drink. Rye whiskey and absinthe were my poison of choice for the evening with an added touch of sweet vermouth and bitters in an attempt to dull the potency. You really taste the whiskey upon first sip, before the strong hints of the absinthe’s licorice scent slowly creeps into your nostrils. Hard liquor really shocks your senses; perception of my environment heightened immediately. The clientele consisted mainly of Western businessmen or casually dressed Chinese couples clapping lackadaisically as the singer finished a piece while the pianist played her out. She was from Dallas, and as she sang, I heard hints of gospel choirs erupting from her vocal chords, something I hadn’t heard around Shanghai. People talked among themselves, but all seemed to be subtly entranced by this singer, as bodies language suggested that the star was the woman behind the microphone. As advertised, the bar was indeed very long, longer than any bar I had ever seen; bottles upon bottles lined the back wall. This was the bar. The allure was tangible; I felt very much alive.

With my cigar lit and drink in hand, I was content to sit and just take in everything. I find happiness in little experiences like this, as insignificant as it may seem. In the words of G.K. Charleston, “Drink because you are happy, but never because you are miserable.” An establishment as majestic as the Long Bar accompanies no misery, because you can’t help but come in and feel drawn to the vibrancy and life, both of the past and of today, that shrouds the bar in mystery.