The Hot Dog Guy

I didn’t eat much for breakfast and apparently didn’t pack enough lunch, so around 3 p.m. I was getting a little hungry. I wasn’t candy bar hungry and I wasn’t burger and fries hungry either. I needed something between a snack and a meal.

I took a stroll to the nearby hot dog cart just off the Metro, where I ordered a dog with mustard and kraut. Then I watched the master go to work.

It’s funny, I don’t feel this way when I watch someone make me a sandwich or a burger. But this hot dog guy mixes pure artistry into his job. His tongs are his instrument and he plays them well. He opens the package of buns just so, quickly dipping his tongs to pick one for me. He taps it not once but twice on the tinfoil before his tongs dive into the vat of hot dogs. It is one smooth motion that is almost impossible not to stare at.

That probably sounds ridiculous, but I felt the same way in Salt Lake, when I would sneak out of the office for some low-fat turkey dogs on occasion. You know these guys do the same thing with every dog, every day. They probably are a little OCD. But at the same time, they make it seem so personal, as if your hot dog is some how special.

I paid my $1.50 and cradled my newly purchased hot dog as I eased myself away from his cart. By the time I made it back to the office elevator, that dog was devoured and my mind left from the magic of the hot dog vendor and returned to work.