Fish man, fish

This is how I spent the holiday weekend - cooking, frying and eating a bunch of food. Catfish, chicken, shrimp, low country boil, pork shoulder, etc. Yeah, lots of delicious food. The downside - lack of booze. That's what happens when you visit family who no longer partakes of the nectar. Oh well, doesn't stop a person from sneaking in some of that beer and having some cold ones on the sly. I feel like I'm underage again.

SANDWICH ACCOMPLISHED

It only took about 3 months but we did it - we had the best goddamned Reuben sandwich in Gatlinburg. (As far as we know because I don’t think any of us have any comparisons to go on.) Nevertheless it was a fantastic sandwich that thankfully didn’t disappoint. I don’t know how the rest of the weekend would have gone otherwise. Guns, knives and fisticuffs were possibilities.

It all started during our December trip to Gatlinburg when we saw it pictured in the window of the Hofbrauhaus Cheese Shop in the Village section of town. The timing just wasn’t right but we all agreed that we’d have to have it at some point. The anticipation started immediately. Glib days of jokes grew into weeks of derisive comments and accusations. A daytrip wouldn’t be good enough for this sandwich, so hotel rooms were booked, dates set and we waited even more. Finally one Saturday morning the time had come to accomplish this mission.

We made the drive up in separate vehicles to our hotel with separate rooms and began the day by sipping whiskey in the hotel parking lot, which was nice. We trekked through “Battle LA” to the strip and found our way to the Village. Good, the place hadn’t burned down without us knowing so we ventured inside and up the narrow stairwell to the dining area. We were the only guests. The kind lady took our order: 5 Reuben sandwiches and various beers. Only a few minutes to go until…

Drinking Gatlinburg

Gatlinburg has more to offer than outlet shopping, the national park and Flapjack breakfast restaurants. While it is difficult to ignore those things, along with air brushed shirts, Airsoft guns and old timey photos, you can find other things to do in the South’s finest tourist location if you put forth just a little bit of effort. Our group went up for the weekend and managed to have a pretty good time doing what we do best – crafting. No, that’s a lie. We drank a lot of booze and feasted on steak dinners all weekend. (Hint - that’ a recipe for success just about anywhere you go.)

A few notes:


Set up a personal bar in the hotel room as soon as you check in. It is a very comfortable feeling knowing that no matter what happens during your stay that you will have your favorite adult beverage waiting for you in the privacy of your room. You'll need to have this for front-loading purposes but it serves as an emergency backup in case you get separated from the group or simply cut off at the hotel bar.

The Peddler is a fine restaurant that serves a delicious rib eye steak dinner. The salad bar is exquisite and the servers aren't above serving shots of bourbon and tequila between dinner courses (see LVL's previous post). Everyone's entrees were perfect and service was outstanding. I envision a return trip to this place, hopefully sooner than later.

And there were bloody marys. We were strolling the strip looking for our next watering hole to enjoy a nice, cold beer when we saw the sign at McCutchan's Bar & Grill advertising the world's finest bloody mary. Well, tempted by such a claim we sauntered into the bar "area" and ordered 4 of the bastards. A "regular" took our order and placed it with the barmaiden who began making our cocktails. Soon enough a nice server with a heavy eastern European accent delivered our bloodys and we drank 'em down. Yes, they were very good but sadly I do not think they were the world's best, sorry McCutchan. We moved on our way and within 2 blocks we saw another sign advertising the "world's best bloody mary". Shit. We'd been had but there was no way I was about to go in to comparison shop.

We opted to drink atop the mountain at Ober Gatlinburg instead. Good call. Although the options were limited once we reached the lodge, the bar was open, prices weren't too bad and the service was good. Mission accomplished. We moved on to Pucker's and Hoggs & Honeys to wrap up our drinking on the strip before returning to the hotel for dinner (another steak) and drinks. All in all I'd say it was a regal experience, and I'd like to make it back there without waiting 10 years between visits next time.

Disturbing Trends in Dinner Prickery

So, this past weekend some members the group got the H out of dodge and pub crawled in a new town. There is something profoundly necessary about dealing with Holiday and impending winter related stress by taking one's shit on the road. A good rule is that at least one full day should be devoted to the crawl proper. Find a tasty Bloody Mary and then just go into the afternoon with an open mind. The details...such as those regarding our destination, fade into obscurity. Unnecessary even.

During these adventures, the mind often embraces its creative side. New things are tried, experimentation keeps everyone on their toes. Such was the setting for a Mackey-LVL contest of wills and livers.

The setting was a fine restaurant, where our group initially made reservations but always looking for the quickest way to continue the drinking(of course we started way before, don't judge us Puritan) we found a table in the lounge. Full service of course, or the victory is hollow. Time saved: 25 minutes from the initial reservation. We were victims of our own smug success, since we would have to slam our drinks seated.

To Mackey's initial surprise, I informed the server that we two gentlemen would need whisky shots-in a hurry. He didn't disappoint and those warm bastards arrived right before the salad.

LVL: 1, Mackey Nil. To be fair, I didn't enjoy the contrast in flavor either, but shit it had to be done. Pro-A strong opening move. Con-tasted like pain.

Not to be outdone, Mackey retaliates with a strong counter to the pre-salad bourbon: The mid-meal tequila. Nothing like chilled Patron to make you appreciate the next bite of prime rib or steak. The mouth is alternately confused and then grateful.

Pro-A devastating blow to my dinner morale. Con-sparks profanity in a setting unaccustomed to such prickery. LVL: 1, Mackey: 1. Push.

Final word? Neither of us want to go through that again. It was just pointless once everyone regained the faculty of civilized speech. No, I'll go further and admit it was a terrible idea. In summary, learn from the shitheaded behavior documented here. The lesson is that you should cockpunch your friends with a belt of Wild Turkey AFTER the last bite.

Hippie / Music Fest

AKA Fleta Fest. The following information was sent to me via email and I must disclose that I’ve never been to this event, however I have been to River John’s Island many, many drunken times. It is a great location away from “city life” and a perfect spot to relax, let yourself go and have a good time. Links are posted with directions, maps, ticket information, musician lineups, photos, etc. They are very excited about this event as you can tell by the 500 or so exclamation marks!!!!!!!!!!!!

River John’s Island, just out outside Maryville, TN. Is the location of this year’s third annual “Fleta Fest”, held this coming May 14, 15, & 16th! “3 days of music and fun on a 3 acre island!!” There will be 20 bands in three days on only one stage. Accessible by car, you can drive right up onto the island and car camp (no big RV's please!) Also in the case of spring showers, there is a big pavilion on the island where everyone can gather for an intimate performance as the show goes on! In addition to the pavilion, we will have two huge tents set up as additional shelter. This year we are allowing coolers as a consolation for the economy being so difficult, but we will have some incredible food vendors on the island too! Come celebrate Spring and a fresh jumpstart for a great Summer festival season! Remember this is a semi-primitive campsite so bring your grills and tents. There will be one bonfire, so if you want a fire at your campsite bring one of those metal things in which to contain it!! There is electric on the island but it's use is limited to a central location.

Pam Munson will set up her massage therapy tent and we hope to have some hippie bead vendors as well. Ta Dye 4 Ink will set up to sell and let the festival goers make their own tye dye shirts. Julie Costner (local Maryville artist) has done the art work for the logo this year! Pope’s Garden Center located in Maryville (and Knoxville) will provide tropical plants throughout the island!

This year will be better than ever! I checked the Farmer’s Almanac and we will have less precipitation than average, as opposed to last year having substantially more than average! In addition we will have more than a thousand square feet of shelter around the stage so that the show goes on rain or shine! Two years ago during a light spring shower everyone huddled under the large shelter and it made the show nice, cozy and intimate. This festival is growing and getting better every year! A new segment called "Short Sets" will feature up and coming artists as a prelude to the evening shows!

The line up so far:

Brent Thompson Band
Cutthroat Shamrock
Hudson K
Stripmall Ballads
Ben Maney & Countless Sheep
Jessica Dawn
Ganacita
Kirk Fleta Band
Terry "Teep" Philips
Majority of Names
Richard Douglas
Alex Thompson
Fish Sticks
Emory Cannon
Scott McMahan
Ni Crow
Brad Blackwell
Ben DeBerry
Luke Gitchel

Kirk and the festival!

Well

Yeah, I know. Deep subject right. Ziiinnnnnnnggggg.

In any event, Mackey will have to lead you here from now on. You see, I've made a few personal decisions that I'll admit are in conflict with my modest position here. I believe that as I've gotten a little older, a little more mature that I can't continue to drink without abandon or concern for social consequences. We've all got to grow up sometime, and I'm long overdue when it comes to this. Sure, owning my home and vehicle...holding down a steady job all those things are signs of responsible sane living. Getting torched in the morning for drunk breakfast? Not so much. So, I've got to bid you guys farewell. Maybe you'll see me at your local coffee shop or yard sale(if it's a weekend.) Best wishes, and maybe you should ask yourselves the hard questions with which I have been challenged.

I'm just fucking with you. Happy April Fool's Day assholes. If anything, I'm going to pour it on. Pun intended. April is a great month for drinking in Knoxville. Festivals, festivals, and more festivals. King Randall's always classic birthdays. Spring has fucking sprung. As we extend into year three around here, you'll find more bar reviews and more updates from familiar establishments. Cheers, ladies.

Back to Florida

No I have not made a second trip; why in the hell would I do that. No this is just something that deserved its own post. Ok so there we were near the end of our trip and we have barely left our little area, so let’s explore, let us see what normal tourist do, blah. So we head south to
Turns out to be as touristy as touristy spots get, blah. That’s alright I tell my self over and over, because we haven’t done any of this yet so one evening won’t hurt. Everybody else with us was there to eat; me just to drink. So Miss. Berauscht and I get to walk around to some shops while they wait on a table; not bad, some decent shops some tourist traps. Soon I get the call; table ready at the Hut. The place is all done up for your family of vacationers: fake trees painted on every post, fake stone figures, foe bamboo, blah. So I look down the draft line, all crap, as I remind myself it’s ok it is just one evening. They can’t even provide a decent bottle. I settle on a Makers on the rocks. It arrives at the table looks like a normal pour, but in a plastic cup; I once again remind myself. It goes down well and the Miss. and I want to go walking while they eat, so we ask for the tab. $11.00; I was ready for something around there so no big deal, until further review $6.00 for my Makers and $1.00 for the rocks. Yes a dollar for the ice. This is unacceptable, I didn’t order a mixer with it, no soda, nothing but ice. This isn’t some Euro shit hole where they covet ice like oil. I would have been happy to pay $7 for the drink on vacation but to seriously charge for ice and point it out is outrageous. This better not become a common practice; for ice is still too cheap for a restaurant not suck up the cost form other places. Another reason for drinking beer when out and whiskey at home.

Maui Wowie

Ho! Despite my best efforts to self-implode overseas, I have returned to the C48 with many observations and reflections about the bucholic Hawaiian Islands.

In my chronicles, I have tried to maintain consistancy but given my crude notes and even more baffling recorded memos on my almighty cell phone talky box it's all a crapshoot at this point. Here goes.

Flight departs Knoxvegas to Atlanta...travelling with the rents and other family so I am nervous about getting an eye opener at the early flight. The point is moot, bar closed at McGhee Tyson and the regional flight literally mocks you with the lack of beverage service. Arrival at Hartsfield(a layer of Faustian Hell akin to O'Hare, the lowest pit of betrayer's ice) is also too early to get good and tucked, but traveling back in a week's time will allow me to scout out potential bars to dull the the boredom during layovers.

Flying to Salt Lake City begins the trip in earnest...Delta offers drink service in first class, but showing self-control I decide to wait. After all I am traveling back several time zones and who wants to travel to the State of Mormon needing beverages only to find 3.2% misery. Feh.

Delta flight to Kahului Maui. Now we're cooking with gas. Cocktails are gratis in first class, and the Lord gets his drink going in full force. After loudly informing everyone in first and business class that Jack Daniels is a traitor's drink, I settle into Woodford Reserve minis. Drink by drink, brick by brick I build a wall of strength to keep the sober wolves at bay. Honestly, homos, why are you up with the elite if you aren't going to booze it up? Five drinks later and some pretty pills, I am sloshed and staring out my window at miles and miles of blue. Damn, that's thirsty work. I get number six on the tray when the pilot announces gleefully we'll be setting down early due to a healthy tailwind. Great news for 99.9% of the passengers, bad news for the Lord as he quaffs his bourbon on the rocks. By the way, straight drinks rather than mixed cocktails or beer is the only practical way to booze on the plane, lest you spend time in line for the head. I prefer the front end of drinking rather than spending all day pissing in a glorified chemical crapper.

After landing and settling into the first of my two digs,

The Lord realizes he needs to acclimate to his new surroundings and the heat. So hydration will be the watchword of the day. That lasts 20 minutes and two bottled waters. So I am off to the grocer, whereupon I find that Hawaii's liberal liquor laws allow booze to be purchased with such staples as rice, pop tarts, and various stewed meats. Ok, that's more of a Turkish thing.

Around 9:51 AM local time, I decide that I would like to find some literal Maui Wowie to make the trip complete. Alas, where to search? Who is trustworthy? What are the rules here?

10:17 AM local time-Maui Wowie obtained. Here, quite easily in fact:

The coincidence is palpable. If you are asked for the time, the locals are holding. Just sayin'

Tuesday night, the Lord and his few cousins and cousines that consume the brew are out and about. We have some Longboard Lagers at a local Sportspage Bar on South Kihei Hwy and I noticed something. The folk of Maui love tacos. There were three separate joints within earshot of the bar. Maui Taco, Tortillas of Maui, Taco Up Your Ass in Maui(a franchise with origins in Taco Up Your Ass, Buenos Aires Argentina). Who knew?

Wednesday, after moving my accomodations to the Grand Wailea in Makena

This place fucking rocks. Huge bill to pay, but totally worth it to ditch the sober folk. They have thirteen pools, including the always splendid swim-up bar. The primary restaurant and bar is Humukumu's. Actually the name consists of 30 plus characters, an anomaly in a phonetic alphabet of limited consonants and stunted vowels. The bar is literally an aquarium, salt water of course and surrounded by fountains with terracota dolphins and semi-naked islander gods and goddesses. Some native fish in there as well, but I might have hallucinated that part. The Maui Wowie is strong with this one, some scarred fart in a samurai helmet once said.

Spectacular open air eatery...and of course, the sun sets just so...the pools and fountains become sublime examples of simple majesty.

The real kicker is that my bar tab was transferred to the table(thus becoming the always sought after cadged drink) when the father and mother of the groom picked up the tab. Scallops for appetizers, spiny lobster(still in season) and a filet tartar set the night off wonderfully. Wine from Oregon, more whiskey...damn, this place truly is God's own backyard. I swore I could have seen fireworks. Oh, right there were...

Granted, I am so torched at this point I thought Nagumo's carrier's were at it again, and that Commander Genda himself was leading Zeke's to strafe my vacation. Not so, but fireworks are closely regulated here so offshore boats are the preferred platform. It was really spectacular and when combined with the scantily clad women, a real delight...till I passed out on the beach and try as I might could not get to my high dollar room. Fuck. Where is the concierge when you need him? No doubt fucking the Phillipino maid in a closet/conjecture-editorial license/

The wedding itself was Thursday morning and the hammer of Thor was pounding in my skull. Surprisingly I did not hurl in Makena Cove nor on the Road to Hana, but I did seek to defile this blog's prominent Hawaiian friend by micturating on just about everything. Oh yeah, drank some weak ass champagne that was lukewarm after the service. Sorry for the low mention, but the Lord despises that merde'

That evening, we made the long ass drive to Lahaina on the northern end of Maui for a proper Luau. At first, I was skeptical but soon even I was convinced this was the place to be. At nearly a hundred bucks a head these fackers pile in 6-800 people a night and rake in the dough, with gratis drinks to a point. Culture, wickedness, lust, and pagan idolatry all rolled into one. Sumbitches over there never heard "thou shalt make no graven image" memo that's for sure.

Let's get to the tits shall we?

There are quite possibly only two other sets of breasts in the world more splendid than what I saw that night, and have decided that coconut bras should be brought to the mainland. More on that when I see how that turns out. Seriously though, I highly recommend this luau. Fine swine, steak, and other local cuisine that will really do the trick.

On the way back, we passed some po-po setting up a roadblock. Good thing I wasn't driving. Flat beer and Mai Tai's still will get you in heap big trouble.

Friday we hopped by helo over to Oahu...very Magnum PI-ish. On a serious note, the trip to Pearl Harbor demands the utmost in respect so no drinking reviews there. Just solemnity and sense of greater honor to those that will never sip a beer on this earth again.

The Missouri was impressive though, a fine example of the killpower we drunk Americans can produce. Only the nation of misfits and boozers can make 16/50's and CIWS towers.

The next time someone smarts off about being able to drink enough to float a battleship, tell them to piss up a rope.After Pearl, we headed into Honolulu proper and took in some of the local fare and sights. Goethe tells us that where there is much light there is also much shadow. Truth. It's a big town, and some parts are quite hideous and slummy. Even in paradise, there are the dregs.

Now, world famous Waikiki Beach is another equation entirely. Dior, Gucci, Armani shops all along a main drag that is only feet away from some of the most gorgeous, if crowded beaches in the free world.

Then of course, there is also the little fact of meeting my future wife...hold fast sublime creature, daddy will return for you one day.

Holy shit. Holy f'n shit. By the way, this was a very important moment in my 35 winters. Trust me, it was.

I can't really recommend drinking on the cheap in Waikiki...it's not going to happen. Even the token beers and drinks I had at The Cheesecake Factory required a bank note.

To wrap up, finally my drunk ass gets back to the Kahului airport and I am ready to depart...having a couple of hours before boarding I of course get tanked in the bar like any decent red-blooded American. The Slav they had behind the bar offered me another Longboard and mentioned their special of shots for 3 bucks with the purchase of a beer. Clearly he was a little confused when I asked if it was well drinks only. He gestures vaguely to everything and I proceed to clobber his Knob Creek bottle. Big time. Well done Ivan, no doubt your boss has canned your shit by now, but you put my ass on the plane in fine fettle. So much so that I had one drink on the plane before passing out. In first class, the attendent pretty much tucks you in...or I assume so, since my drink was gone and the tray table was up.

Anyway, more of the same boozing on the way over repeated itself on the trip home...and the scouting at Hartsfield paid off at a Sam Adams themed bar. Flat broke at this point, put two imperial pints later I am ready to get back to Knoxvegas.

Whew. Blogging it was more tiring than actually living it. To all the readers(all six of you) get your ass over to Hawaii or I'll kick you in the shins. And so, the sun sets on this tale.

Tora, Tora, Tora

Against my better judgement, I'm posting a entry on virtually zero sleep. Combine that with 3 days relative sobriety, jetlag that would make Einstein's musings on relativity stand up on end, and a night drive back from the coast and it is like I am drunk.

Ironically, the authors here have a gentleman's agreement to post sober. Weird yes on a blog dedicated to drinking, but we all think that the clarity and pain of the morning after is a better mental state to edify the public.

I'll be posting soon about Maui, obviously with reviews of local joints, airline/airport commentary, thoughts on Hawaii law enforcement, and plenty of pictures. Stay tuned or fuck off.

Hawaii Five Blog

Aloha bitches.

Some trusting family member has allowed me to purloin their pc, so we get the unexpected joy of liveblogging from Maui...south Kihei to be exact.

Gorgeous place, and liberal booze laws. Picked up a metric fuck ton of bourbon whiskey in the damn grocery store for cheap. I didn't expect that.

By the way, flying first class is tits. Five gratis Woodford Reserve drinks and America's favorite pastime of pharaceutical abuse got me through the long ass plane ride. Hail Delta.

Shockingly, not all of the Lord's family members are drinkers...so a small cabal of cousins and cousines are rallying to drink this place dry. More on that to come...but for now I am going to eat some pills and drink in the pool.

Mahalo gentle readers.

Islandblogging

I am getting the fuck out of here.



Hitting Maui for almost a week, then my fine ass will be sending rounds down range with the pipe-hitters union.



Well needed break, actually, before I throttle the living shit out of some people that desperately have it coming.



So, it is with that bipolar desire for fun and blood on my mind that I blow this taco stand. Pictures, story time, and reviews of whereever I can scrounge up a drink over there to follow.