Working 911 with Jerry. Along about 11 we get a call for a woman with a rash. Turns out she may have bed bugs. She’s got bites up and down her arms and legs and all over her torso. Jerry checks her bed to see if he can find any bugs. He doesn’t, but we wrap her up in a sheet as a precaution. Still she is good natured about it, and while waiting in the hospital decon room we start talking about hot dogs. She says she loves hot dogs. We ask her her favorite place, and she mentions a new place in the north end that she heard has good hot dogs, just down the street from her that we have never heard of. She says they also sell pizza and sandwiches. We agree to check it out.
After we decontaminate the ambulance, we head back to the North end to look for the hot dog place. It turns out to be a concrete building on what looks like an abandoned lot. No cars in the lot. There are a couple posters of pizza and hot dogs plastered on the outside wall. The place has no windows. I think maybe that’s were she got the bed bugs, Jerry says. Normally, he is very adventurous and not afraid of anything, but he won’t get out of the ambulance, and I sort of agree with him. Maybe another time. We go further down the street to a place that has been in the Barber Street Plaza for as long as I have been working in the city. It has gone by a couple of different names., Now it is called Pizza and Burger Land, but the sign on the roof is so faded it is hard to read.
Jerry won’t go into this place either. He says I will get killed if I go in there. I actually have been in there a few times over the years, always on calls, an overdose, a stabbing, an assault, it's hard to remember the specifics. I think I do remember eating a hot dog there once too, but that was a long time ago, and it may have been under different ownership. "Don't do it," he said. But damn it, I need a dog. I walk in. The lighting is very dim. and see cartoons of 64 ounce pineapple and grape soda stacked to the ceiling, along with prestacked empty pizza boxes, but I don't smell any pizza cooking. The place smells like day old tobacco.
The place smells like tobacco, and sure enough they sell cheap cigars and rolling papers.
The imposing man behind the counter asks if I want anything else, and I say, no, no, I’m quite fine. A few people come in while I am waiting for my dog and make transactions, but I am not really seeing what they are buying. No food is coming out of the kitchen. Fortunately, my dog doesn’t take too long and man inquires again if I want anything more with my hot dog, and I say no, no, I’m good.
Once I get out in the ambulance, I unwrap the foil around my dog to see a foot long dog in a buttered toasted split top roll.
The first couple bites are kind of nasty. The dog is kind of old and dried out and tastes like tobacco, but the butter in the roll starts doing its magic and I chow it down. If I had to eat this dog 365 days in a row, I would not make it, but for one day, it served its purpose.
And then wouldn’t you know it? We get sent to Newington. Dogtown! "We’ve got to go to Doogie’s," I say. I’m trying not to eat two hot dogs in a day, but I've been thinking about the turnpike dog. I have it in mind to get a 10” turnpike dog and see how fast I can eat it. If it took me 14:40 to eat a 24 inch turnpike dog, then I am guessing maybe 6 minutes for a 10 inch Turnpike dog mini. If I do well against the 10 inch, this could boost my confidence. I could up against the 16 inch next, work my way back up for a rematch with the Big Dog.
Doogie’s is busy when we get there. The construction worker ahead of me has four credit cards in his hand and an order to go along with each of them, and one of the cards isn't going through. I am getting a little nervous I will either get a call before I order, or worse, order and get a call before the food is ready. There are about five tables with people sitting down eating their dogs. There is one very large man who could frankly use two seats to sit in. He is not fat in the sense of rolls of fat, he is just very, very large. Like stocky football lineman thirty years after high school Quadruple X, no neck, anvil head kind of big, like the ground shakes when he walks. I look to see what he is eating and he has an empty 16 inch paper hot dog holder on his tray and he is finishing up his fries, dipping them in ketchup. I think wimp. A 16 that’s all you can do. I ate a fucking 24 last time I was in here. On the other hand, he might have eaten that 16 in two bites where I took 14 plus minutes to finish the 24.
My radio goes off. "107 head to South Main and Sedgwick for the crash. On a one.”
107 is not us, fortunately, but the kid behind the counter picks up on the fact that I am on duty and might be getting a call, so he goes back behind the grille and helps the cook speed up my order, which I appreciate.
A few minutes later, dog and napkins in hand, I am back in the ambulance. I unbutton my shirt in the front passenger seat and tell Jerry to time me and also take some pictures.
“Don’t eat it too fast, you’re going to puke."
“No I won’t, just time me.”
"You better not puke.”
“Timer please.”
Jerry hits the timer for me as the first bite goes in my mouth. I notice right away the difference between the 10’ dog and the 24 inch. It’s the bun. This is a 10 inch dog in an 8 inch bun and the bun is much thinner that the loaf of bread the 24 inch dog comes in. I try something new. I grab the piece of bacon and scarf it down in one chew. I scoop just some onions and peppers and suck them in, then go back to tangling with the dog. I eat this one down pretty quickly, coming in at 3:23.02. Look out Big Turnpike Dog! If I can eat a 10 in 3:23 even with the lighter roll, I should be able to get that 24 down in under ten. Maybe the strategy of eating the toppings first might help.
“You should never be a photographer," I say when Jerry shows me the picture . I do not look like a hot dog gladiator. I look like a skinny old man with boney arms and long stringing gray hair. Which I guess is what I am. It may be time to get my hair cut.
Later I am home, I am watching Instagram when I find this dude eating hot dogs quickly. Just a hot dog without the bun. He basically inhales the dog. I think it is trick photography, but then when I see he took his act on America's Got Talent, I know it is no joke. It takes him like one second.
I guess I am no Lebron James when it comes to basketball, but I still try to play or at least I used to till my knees started killing me. But I still played.
I will never be able to eat a hot dog in one second, but that doesn't mean I am going to quit. Turnpike Dog I am still coming for you.
Day 70 in the belly.