Yes, it's true. The Lion will be going the way of all dinosaurs, I guess. Perhaps it's time. Certainly, the glory years are over. Hoppy's original inception of the joint as a "frat" hang-out has become more predominant. Yet, there are still the freaks who maintain a corner of the place for their illicit affairs. In fact, I have never seen quite the level of in-your-face dope smoking at the Lion as of late. But, even so, it's strange there sometimes. Not quite the same wild vibe as before. But maybe it's just me who's not so wild anymore. However, the stories from years ago are legendary. Here are a few:
The Great Fish Head Incident for instance. Every night for a week, a pile of rotten fish heads were dumped into the tank of the women's room toilet. You can imagine the result. It took a while before anyone discovered where the horrid smell was coming from. The purpose behind such a prank? Youthful exhuberence, high spirits, social commentary? All of that, and, at the same time, none of that. Pointless, random mayhem was sometimes the order of the day at the Lion.
One night, after closing time and the consumption of dozens of beers and multiple tabs of LSD, we poured red paint from the roof down the front of the building, and Fairchild nearly killed himself leaping across a poorly constructed ramp we had placed between the balcony next door across to the Lion's roof. Eric made the leap, but then kept going and fell off the opposite side of the roof to the concrete steps below. Being drunk and tripping on acid probably saved his life.
Rob, I remember you and I standing out front reciting dialogue from "Blue Velvet" one night when a passing drunk, who was just entering a cab, leapt back out and popped you in the gulliver when he thought the line "He's a pussy, Frank!" was directed towards him.
Also, when fraternity-type fuckheads were screwing with my girlfriend, you calmly told them "I'm sorry, gentlemen, but you must be maced." Their incredulous looks told me they thought you, me, and the rest of the leather-clad ruffians we were with (whom the fratboys had foolishly overlooked) just might be crazy enough to do it.
There are, of course, many more such tales of debauchery and destruction. I'm sure somebody else besides my friends pulled such ridiculous stunts. Immature? Yes. Foolish? Most certainly. But I wouldn't have missed it for the world. Adios, Stone Lion.
