While the ink on this page was still drying, several dozen bankers were careening toward the hangover of a lifetime. Of course, a Sunday hangover is nothing unusual for the average salaried employee, but for these chosen few -- these fast-track Masters of the Universe with brain cells aplenty to burn, who play by their own rules and rarely limit their drinking to the weekend -- today will be painful to remember, impossible to forget and likely to ignite a bonfire of profanity.
The occasion? The 10th anniversary of Mogambo, an innocent-enough looking expat hangout in Roppongi. But don't be fooled by the suits you'll find cradling drinks at the bar early in the evening midweek. The hordes you'll find at the same time on the weekends are more indicative of how most nights end -- with people squashed elbow to jowl at the bar, knocking back shots and howling along full-tilt to loud R&B and rock anthems that the bartenders spin between drink orders.
Mogambo will have technically turned 10 on Valentine's Day, but yesterday -- Feb. 16, 2002 -- will undoubtedly become known as the Bloody Mogambo's Day Massacre.