Back in the car, inching out of Manhattan, feeling the excitement of epic journey. Except I’m really going on six epic journeys, to funnel like 25 pounds of red meat into my belly. But I’m not in this alone. If I’m Captain Willard on this Heart of Beefness journey, then my photographer, Anthony, is Lance, because I’m not sure he realizes what’s happening, and he’s probably a good surfer, because he's from Miami and appears to be in good shape.
As we roll up to Hard Rock Cafe Boston, I meet up with a bunch of old friends. I went to college here. I feel a bit like that same freshman hitting up the dining hall, ready to eat way too much without imagining the hefty consequences. Only in this case, the dining hall is fantabulous -- Hard Rock definitely doesn't serve "Sad Chicken in Inexplicable Sauce."