All photos: Stephanie Breijo

I don’t know about you, but on weekends I can’t wait to wake up groggy, weighed down by the mistakes of last night, then suddenly determined to corral my friends to absolutely fucking destroy a plate of  breakfast/lunch food at a quaint dining spot. This time we’re going to Rock and Roll Hotel’s Full Metal Brunch. So strap on your metal chokers, wallet chains, obscure grindcore band tees, and get ready to argue what Metallica would have been like if Dave Mustaine stayed in the band — all the while enjoying a plate of chicken and waffles and bloody, gristled, haunted Marys.

Breakfast? Nope. Lunch? Hahaha. FUCK no. Dinner? I’m going to destroy you. It’s FULL METAL BRUNCH, fuckers.

Have you ever been to a brunch spot that checks IDs and gives you Over-21 bracelets and huge Sharpee’d Xs if you’re under? You’re at the Rock and Roll Hotel. Buckle the fuck down, because you’re about to be exposed to some adult content. Oh, and in case you didn’t know, RnR was built on top of a mortuary, so if you think you see a ghost, or hear a disembodied voice, or feel an ice-cold graze that ripples your skin with gooseflesh, it’s 99.9% likely that it’s a doombanshee or fuckgoblin that intends to haunt you for all eternity, unless, unless, you come with the right attitude and appetite.

You don’t have to go all out for Full Metal Brunch, but it’s certainly encouraged for you to get get weirder than a GWAR show. Stephanie and I put on some goth metal makeup for the occasion. Why? Because fuck you. People strolling down H Street all easy-like a-Sunday-morning see us and begin chuckling like we we’re in mutual good humor. Then, wordlessly, without breaking our gazes, our satanic smiles curl up and blood starts bubbling hot out of our mouths and ears. Children cower into the long skirts of their mothers, women bristle and sprint in the opposite direction, and dispirited men with sad, sunken eyes will later drink and sing death ballads in fearful homage to us.

Once you trudge your knee-high, steel toe booted feet to RnR’s roofdeck you’ll hear metal music blasting. It’s a combination of hair metal, classic rock, and a few moments of thrash grating into the mix. Oh and don’t go all Glenn Danzig on us, ninnies. We get it, summer is hot. But there are fans blasting everywhere to keep you cool. You can also slake your precious thirst with Bloody Marys made with fresh tomatoes or $6 PINTMOSAS or $3 PBRs. If your dog is under 10 lbs you can even bring that little hellhound with you. If you’re really metal, something akin to At The Gates’ Slaughter of the Soul, then you’ll go for my homeboy’s “Jimmy Rhodes’ Man Jam” made from Jeremiah Weed sweet tea vodka and, “other manly stuff… If you like to crush posers, drink this,” we’re told.

Here’s what you do for food. Don’t even dare betray me on this one or I’ll lock you in a closet with St. Anger playing on repeat: chicken and waffles or Danger Dogs. The Belgian waffles are bigger than a Sunn O))) drone guitar sweep. They’re slathered in either (1) homemade strawberry bourbon compote or (2) Stoli vanilla whipped cream, with maple syrup and butter as standard toppings. You will Ride The Lightning when these beasts leave your tastebuds in glorious shambles.

You know those little hot dog kiosks speckled in metropolitan street corners? Yeah those tiny, chrome, umbrella’d pieces of shit straight up tremble at the thought of conjuring a Danger Dog. It takes some industrial strength Rammstein-esque fixtures to yield these tasty behemoths. Here’s the deal with the dogs: you get two all beef kosher hot dogs wrapped in bacon on a sweet Hawaiin roll and served with your choice of black or pinto beans, grilled onions, peppers, jalapenos, banana peppers, cilantro, coleslaw, sauerkraut, raw onions, lettuce, tomatoes, BBQ, ranch, sriracha, ketchup, mustard, and mayo. That’s a lot of options. But then again there’s a lot of fantastical shit going on in most Dream Theater albums but they still manage to blow your mind, right? John Petrucci and Mike Portnoy are practically shredding your mouth up with metal goodness when you bite into these things. Don’t back down. Get as many ingredients as you can, because these dogs are relentless and delicious.

After your meal, feel free to go and play cornhole or beer pong. In fact if you don’t I will think you a lesser person. Desecrate your opponents and drink their sorrows in a goblet of Red Rum: “Banned in 43 states and 19 nations around the world,” this frostee libation will get you more incoherent than early aughts era Ozzy Osbourne. That’s why there’s a limit of two per person. No (known) mortal can handle any more than that.

After staving off your insatiable hunger pangs for a short while, maybe stroll around H St. and see what other Hellish delights await you in the neighborhood:

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