Sick of reading about my Maine misadventures? So am I. Thank yahweh this is the final installment…. and I saved the best for last.
Any past-her-prime former camper pathetically reliving her tweenage glory days must consume at least one meal on her former stomping grounds.
For me and my friends, this means showing up on Friday evening just in time to shove five pieces of Big John‘s probably crack-laced veggie pizza down our gullets. Wash it all down with the infamous “dicks on sticks with herpes” – a CF delicacy aptly nicknamed by my middle sister – and you’re good to go.
Of course, the rest of your meals will consist almost entirely of nature’s most delectable bottom dwellers, LOBSTAH!
I love lobster. I love lobster the way Brick loves lamp and Ron Burgundy loves scotchy scotch scotch. Eating lobster is what I imagine it would feel like to drop ecstasy in a field of wildflowers while getting a deep tissue foot massage and grooving to a David Guetta remix of the Sufjan Stevens emo masterpiece “Chicago.” (Why does that not exist?)
Here’s where to get it fresh off the boat:
Two Lights – If you’re only going to eat one lobster roll in your whole entire lifetime (which would be really really dumb, for real), stop for lunch on a summer afternoon at this shack dramatically situated on a cliff overlooking the Atlantic Ocean. Then die happy.
If you need convincing after taking a gander at the video below, you’re on glue. P.S. Adam Richman is Betsy’s idea of the perfect man. Discuss.
For dinner, post up at Portland Lobster Co. and slap on that claw-crackin’ bib.
Great beer selection, great live band, and an easy walk to the bars in downtown Portland so you’re not at the mercy of your Sober Sally driver after chugging down all that Allagash.
For a casual time on your first night in town, go to Novare Res, a beer garden in downtown Portland with 25 rotating taps and 500+ bottles of beer. Need I say more?
If you’re not a beer drinker – #1 you’re probably the worst, and #2 Novare Res is not likely to tickle your tutu. My henchwoman Patrice tried ordering an Amaretto Sour there last time and it (understandably) did not go over well with the bar wench.
Once you’ve settled in and got your party pants on tight, it’s time to roll with the pros at Oasis: the hottest thing to happen to Maine since global warming.
I am in zero way exaggerating when I say that Oasis is the craziest club I’ve ever been to. And sure, I’m not into the clooooobs like some chickenheads I know. But I’ve seen my fair share of wild times nonetheless- I did go abroad in Europe, after all. OASIS IS THE BEST. Hands down.
The crowd ranges from inland Mainers who seriously need professional dental attention to hot hotty hot Australian counselors on their days off. Also, it’s Maine, so when you cut the three-blocks-long line to get in the door, no one really says anything.
Crazy as it sounds, there will be hours in the day during your stay in Maine that involve neither engorging yourself of seafood nor boozing like you have backup livers to spare. That’s where boating comes in.
Drive to Naples, Maine. (For extra fun, pronounce it “nipples” like the Mainers do). You will see a large old-style boat called the Songo River Queen. Do not under any circumstances get on the Songo River Queen if you don’t want to be stuck out at sea (correction: lake) with 5000 screaming toddlers and their tiger moms.
Instead, go next door to the unnamed boat rental facility and get yourself a zippy little ski boat for approximately 2 hours. Park it in the middle of Sebago. Bask.
Afterward, head across the street for nachos and a bathtub-sized Margarita vat at Rick’s Cafe. Done and done!
***This series is dedicated to Patty Poo, Emballs, and Jayjers. Without whom I would know nothing about reaping mayhem all along the coast of Southeastern Maine.