My Re-Make of "The Lion King"

Sometimes you just need a vacation, even if it’s only one night.

Such was the case last week when Ms. Katie Schier and I embarked on an epic journey to see just how much damage we could do to ourselves in one evening. In order to properly pull this off, you’re going to need a great hotel with assorted animal-print robes and ridiculous décor. The Hotel Marlowe in Cambridge fit the bill perfectly, so I booked a large suite as our base of operations.
The ride down featured us belting out Cheap Trick’s “The Flame” to absolute perfection. We performed it so well that for the duration of the song, it was as if I myself were “The Flame.” I may or may not be listening to it right now as I write….





The suite was fairly large, around 542.6 sq. ft., and at first we were delighted to see that it had a telescope. This turned to frustration, as we couldn’t figure out if it was broken or not, so it pretty much became a prop for a late-night photo shoot. We came to the conclusion that if someone’s house were decorated like the room, we would hate that person. For our purposes, however, it was perfect.
The leopard robe was my first choice, but unfortunately the zebra robe was more suited to the “plus-size” individual. I’m a total asshole so I brought appropriate stemware for each of the wines, as if it were going to matter after bottle number four. Dietz and I officially endorse Spiegelau brand stems for all of our drinking needs, by the way. They are much better than the base level Riedel, and less expensive (because shit gets broken).



The first wine:
NV Rene Geoffroy Rose de Saignee Brut, Champagne

According to Terry Thiese, this is what “strawberries would taste like if they had orgasms.” I would have to agree and it lasted all of 20 minutes before we downed the whole bottle. It was at this time that Katie mentioned to me “that she hadn’t eaten all day.” This was going to be interesting…



We head off to the East Coast Grill, also in Cambridge, for dinner. I love this restaurant, especially on the two nights a year that they do “Hell Night.” On these occasions they change the lights out to red ones, play metal, and serve insanely hot food. They charge ten dollars for a glass of milk, and feature the “pasta from hell” – a habanero Bolognese with habanero-spiked sausage. It is, to this day, the hottest thing I’ve ever eaten. The Mr. Bungle track “It’s not funny my ass is on fire” comes to mind.



This wasn’t hell night, but the regular menu is delicious as well. We plow through a dozen oysters, and then move on to sweetbreads, pork belly, and the pu-pu platter – the best element of which was the smoked duck spring rolls.

With the oysters we drink a bottle of:
2007 La Droissy Vouvray, Loire Valley

This was refreshing and had nice acidity to compliment the oysters. Loire Valley whites are up there with German Riesling for me as wines I constantly gravitate to on lists.

We drain this quickly and move on to a bottle of:
2007 Trimbach Gewurtztraminer, Alsace

The intense aromas of honeysuckle and lychee made me feel like a total shithead when I started talking about them. This is a mass-produced but consistently decent wine, so it’s a safe choice, and it goes very well with the elements of the pu-pu platter.
At this point I’m getting pretty lit up, and am starting to entertain, or horrify, the staff (see picture). Katie has her ridiculous camera out and is snapping pictures of me pulling up my shirt to show off my bacon cross tattoo. One of the servers, who actually knew about this blog, takes me into the kitchen for more tattoo-time, and then Katie knocks over a glass of wine.



This seems like a perfect time for two enormous shots of:
Herradura Blanco Tequila

We decide not to overstay our welcome and call a taxi. The cabbie is listening to reggae, which prompts Katie to start a ridiculous conversation with him that I don’t remember. What I do remember is that after we paid and got out, he came driving back, rolled down his window, and said he wanted to give us a “gift.” He produced two Newport cigarettes out of nowhere, thanked us, and then headed off into the night. I’m still mildly confused about this whole incident.
We decide to get stoned and then the drinking continues back at the room, but not before we don our robes again.



Next on the list:
2006 Domaine Sorine et Fils Santenay, Burgundy

A great finesse-wine for a situation that was completely devoid of finesse. I would normally drink this wine with food but on this occasion I would have to settle for a mini-dance party. As we finish this bottle, Katie’s status is questionable.



Nonetheless, we move on to:
2006 Chateau des Tours Cotes du Rhone

Even as drunk as I was, this is truly one of my favorite wines. It’s got this almost Dr. Peppery-funk to it that paired quite well with the seven dollar bag of Kettle Chips from the mini-bar. As Katie fades in to sleep, I decide that I need to order “The Hangover,” for fourteen dollars on the pay per view, even though I’ve seen in a million times. I promptly pass out in a zebra-clad heap after the first half hour. During this time, Katie wakes up and has her way with me, photographically, in this state.
Around 4 a.m., something amazing happened. We both woke up at the same time, actually feeling fairly refreshed, all things considered. We toss the idea around of opening the bottle of Riesling I’d brought, but decide to get stoned instead and go back to sleep. Katie decides that she needs the can of honey-roasted peanuts from the mini bar, so I grab handful and shovel them into my mouth.

What I learned is that you should never:
1. Wake up dehydrated from drinking
2. Get stoned, causing you to have brutal cottonmouth.
3. Eat a handful of honey roasted peanuts and then pass out before you finish chewing them

I awoke about an hour later with one of the most awful and abrasive feelings in my mouth than one could ever imagine. I immediately stumble to the bathroom and start vomiting splinters of honey-roasted peanuts mixed with red wine into the toilet. Because I was so dehydrated, it was like I was some kind of honey-roasted peanut wood chipper, which was quite painful. Plus I don’t have my contact lenses in so I do a fairly poor job cleaning up to boot, so when Katie asks what the hell happened the next day, and why there were traces of red wine touching the bathtub, at least I was prepared with an amazing story.



We check out and start the ride home. On the way, in Saugus, we stop at Bill and Bob’s (right next to Kappy’s liquors) for one of my favorite sandwiches of all fucking time: The King Beef. It’s a stack of paper-thin roast beef topped with melted cheese, mayo, and Frank’s Red Hot. All of this on a toasted onion roll – fuck yes.
I proceeded to stay drunk for about 7 days after that……