Today in Soho, I saw a hot dog vendor.
Ta-da! End of story.
Not really.
OK, so I saw this hot dog vendor who was quietly manning his cart. He was probably in his 40s, a little guy with darkish skin and a full head of very dark hair. The kind of cute little guy who looked like he took pride in his cart (and his hair). Just standing there, quietly enjoying the sunshine and the parade of people on Prince Street.
Facing him was a guy who yesterday probably stumbled from bar to bar with his face painted green. A regular ol’ white guy, probably in his 30s, blondish, who looked like he’d enjoy nothing more than to spend the rest of his days with his “buddies” swilling beer in a frat house. In short, a real dick.
So anyway, just as I approached, I heard him say to the vendor, loudly, “Hot dogs! Are the hot dogs fresh?” And then, raising his voice a bit, “Are they fresh today? Fresh?”
I didn’t catch the vendor’s response, but apparently it was what he wanted to hear.
As I passed, the fratDUDE said, even more loudly, with a laugh, and slowly, “I. Take. ONE. One haaaht daaahg. Leee-tuhhl mahh-staaahd. No-o-o uhhhhn-yuhhhhn.”
I hope he heard me say, as I passed, “JACK. Assssss.”