I’ve got some posts planned about architecture, but like a lot of Americans right now, I’m in an anxiety-induced holding pattern, just getting through the final two days of the Cheetolini administration. Like maybe he’ll pardon a few more war criminals, but hopefully now that he’s cut off of twitter he can’t goad his Nazi-wannabe toadies into more acts of domestic terrorism. Anyway, he’s out of here, leaving 400,000 of us dead from Covid, and many of our livelihoods destroyed.
So now for something happy to to get us through, something we do best in Chicago: hot dog stands.
I can’t tell you the last time I ate a hot dog, though I do fancy a chocolate malted, which is frequently found at finer hot dog stands throughout the city.
No, the hot dog stand itself is the attraction for me.
Some of them have cheeky signs.
And they often have suggestive names, like Chubby Weiner. (Bit of a cannibal, no?)
I walked the 6 miles round trip from my apartment several times during the pandemic just to be cheered up by the vision of Wolfy’s.
I’ve often been depressed by the bad press Chicago seems to always get. Even savvy travel bloggers are like “I’m coming to Chicago, am I going to be safe?” You know what you should be asking? “How do I get to Superdawg?”
Would you prefer to eat your hot dog in a bowling alley? Well here’s a combination bowling alley / hot dog stand with special “Cosmic Bowling” hours where you can bowl in black light accompanied by a fog machine.
This is going to be a long two days. I’m keeping my eye on the hot dog stand at the end of the tunnel.