Hey Faylunchers! Anyone remember that scene from Jurassic Park? You know, the one with the cup of water, rippling as some unseen, behemoth force stalks upon our heroes, stranded in their awesomely 90s Ford Explorers? We're pretty sure you recognize the reference, but if not click here for the full scene. |
On Friday evening, an Englishman, a Chinese Man, and an Indian began a quest of epic proportions. Our goal was simple. We knew this wouldn't be a normal review; there were far too many food trucks to visit in one night, and far too many groupies ambling by to really critique the food, price, and quality. Therefore, we thought we'd treat you all to a good ol' fashioned pictorial blog, including videos, too!
So, while you won't read any celebrity ratings (sorry!!), nor any bathroom reviews (thank goodness!), you will get to experience the night as we did. And luckily for you, we won't be including the morning after, which required hours upon our ceramic thrones and heavy doses of Gas-Ex...
On to it!!
Though Harvey was present for some afternoon photos, the three of us decided that in order to get the real experience, really dans le vif du sujet, then we had to roam the streets well after sundown. So, by 8pm, we were fully immersed in the sounds (farting exhausts, belching motors, snorting rubber...and we're not talking about the motorcycles), the sights of mohawk helmets, flashing LCD lights, and hilariously profane T-shirts, while dodging greasy turkey legs, chrome beer mugs, and sidewalk scuffles, which seemed as numerous as the bikes.
Never have we seen more American flags whipping in the wind! Such a visceral display of patriotism that we were glad we hadn't brought our own ethnic flags!
Essentially, we'd come to a parade. The streets were lined with spectators, all keen to eyeball the coolest decals, or the most badass tattoos. As we walked, noting the degree of variety between bikes (really, no two bikes were the same), we realized how the bikers were both the actors and the audience. And there's a camaraderie amongst these nomads! |
The procession went by like this all night. Bikes coasting down Dickson street, turning onto Arkansas Ave., brandishing their accelerators to the excitement and terror of onlookers. Sure, we saw a lot of displays of testosterone overload, lots of cage-fighter T-shirts and people who advertised being "tapped-out" or "afflicted" (?), but we also caught a glimpse of street etiquette, and, to our amusement, lots and lots of enthusiasm.
THE BEER As we plodded along, passing the normal bearded picketers, a GIANT wooden cross and the tourists eager to pose next to it, we decided a strong beer was in order, and afterwards, some greasy delectables. Seconds later, we'd entered Hog Haus Brewing Company, which was surprisingly quiet. Nevertheless, the hostess was pouring over her seating chart, hand on forehead, obviously racked with stress. When we told her we were there for nothing more than shelter and beer, she told us she loved us. We believed her. At the bar, Harvey ordered himself the Hog Haus IPA ($8), Qi ordered a Curly Tale Ale, and Mike a Fat Boy Blue (both $6). These beers don't play! Three gulps in, washing out the soot from our throats with beer, and we were already a little snockered. But nothing feeds the appetite like a strong drink! We left the bar just as a giddy party-of-three was becoming handsy, no doubt a result of the IPA. If we'd stayed a few more minutes, there was no doubt that articles of clothing would've gone flying. Looking at the would-be nudists, however, and we decided food was the better option. |
There was no debating with Qi, a turkey leg was on his mind, had been since he'd heard the first motorcycle enter city limits. Somehow, he convinced Harvey to join his side, leaving Mike to cater to his more reptilian appetites. Alligator-on-a-stick, otherwise known as "fancy swamp chicken", was about $10 per kabob, whose price hopefully funded the hunter who felled the scaley beast. Turkey legs, whose girth and weight would make perfect caveman weapons, were $8 a piece. As Harvey and Qi would later discover, a turkey leg is hard to eat, and not particularly fun to carry around when cold. Then something happened to us, a most peculiar feeling. Blame the food, but we got excited! Excited for the sights and sounds, the fighting drunk onlookers and the over-compensating bikers. The night was young and we were alive! Harvey went picture crazy, suggesting that Qi and Mike assume silly poses next to bike displays, while he photobombed with his half-eaten turkey leg (see above). Qi went on a food rampage, swinging his own turkey leg overhead like a club, nearly clobbering all in his path! Mike left the group momentarily, to go dance with an inflatable flailing-arm man. Yep, Bikes and Blues and Beer was in our blood! |
Oh, but we weren't done yet, not when we considered the expectations of our loyal fans. You love to see us gorge ourselves, don't lie. And you love reading about all the gross intoxicants we shamelessly install into our bodies. Have no fear!
As our night cap, we decided upon Big Star Lounge, located at 208 N. Block Ave. As a word to the wise, Big Star has the perfect location for food trucks. On Wednesday nights they serve delicious BBQ, but on this night, to the childlike glee of Qi, William's Soul Food Shack was supplying some of the best catfish fillets we'd ever eaten. A little bit of fried okra, a lot of catfish and beer, and even the funnel cake couldn't keep us awake. We tried to stay awake, fans, believe us. But when the sandman came riding in, shooting flames from his dual-pipes, blaring Megadeath, we gladly took ourselves home for our food comas. |
Signing off,
FAYLUNCHIN