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Would you like sweat
with that? Yeah, you're probably better off only eating at this joint
if you're shit-ass drunk. Watching those poor guys cook hotdogs in
the 500 degree heat in slave-like conditions, listening to their dripping
perspiration sizzle on the hot grill and watching them forgo the rubber
gloves to wipe their foreheads on their shirtsleeves is enough to
turn any sober patron's stomach. Come to think of it, maybe that's
the secret ingredient that makes these little fat bombs so tasty.
They are certainly full of sodium, no doubt, but we don't eat hot
dogs to avoid heart attacks; we eat hot dogs because they're the perfect
solution to the drunken munchies. The odd thing about this tiny place
is that they seem to encourage rowdy, destructive behavior. Maybe
the staff is just so downtrodden that any entertainment is fine, even
if they have to pick up the husks of mangled hot dogs that have been
thrown around like fleshy boomerangs. Juvenile as it was, I was in
this joint with some people who decided, after eating their fill of
dogs, that it would be more fun to chuck the things at each other
and see if meat sticks to glass when hurled at speeds exceeding 50
MPH. The odd thing is that the guys behind the counter kept giving
them freebies, and didn't seem to mind the mayhem they were causing.
We left the place stained but satiated--and only about two dollars
poorer. [MF]
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