Lewis Fein’s brother Barry has a blog: barryrides.blogspot.com.
There’s a poignant photo of young Lewis with his brother. "I think my brother was showing me love in the same way Lennie would show a rabbit love."
Some people would think it is insane to go on vacation in the town you live. I was one of those people until this past weekend. Fearing what would happen if I said no, I allowed my brother to take me for the weekend to the Beverly Hills Hotel. If I wasn’t related and the same sex, I would have definitely assumed I would have had to put out for such an extravagant trip. Well at least not the same sex. I am giving my brother the benefit of the doubt here. As far as being related, come on, everyone has a cousin they want to bang. The weekend had everything I could have dreamed of in a vacation. There was a visit to the hospital, a Smokey and the Bandit Trans Am, bagels and lox, a dog shitting in the hotel room, cigars, and a motorcycle with a sidecar. If there had been a monkey knife fight I would have assumed I had died and gone to heaven.
So where do I begin. This might end up being a crazy long post. I am going to try and write everything in order but I am sure I will screw some of it up. Who gives a shit? Not like you can prove I didn’t fight a ninja on my last night in the hotel.
A bit of a background on the trip and why it happened. My brother really wanted to go somewhere for Memorial Day weekend. He just didn’t want to fly or drive anywhere far. Since we like eating at the Beverly Hills Hotel so much it seemed like a logical choice. The goal was to relax, eat well, and go for car rides to parts of LA we hadn’t been to before. It was just me, my brother and a loaner Welsh Terrier named Terry the entire weekend.
