On that glorious night, I went up and said, "I'd like 20 hot dogs please." The woman working the register looked at me like I had two heads. I responded, "Can I do that?" And another vendor worker behind said, "Oh yeah, you can do that!" and laughed and laughed. The two fine workers counted my 20 dogs, I handed over a Hamilton and the feast was on.
I think I ate like 7 of them or something, with my cousin devouring maybe 8. The rest we gave away and/or threw at people in the vast caverns of the 700 level. I could eat like a champ as a teenager, but not 20 hot dogs. That's a bit much.
A year later, when I ventured back to the Vet for yet another Dollar Dog game, I went to order hot dogs. There were three of us — silver fox, my cousin (different one) and myself — so I decided to be a nice guy and order like 10 for the three of us. Well, this time, an older, African-American woman wouldn't let me order 10. She said the limit was 5 per person, and I have a sneaky suspicion that my tall order of 20 hot dogs may have caused the Phillies to change their policy. But let's face it, 5 wasn't going to cut it for the three of us. I argued a bit, but to no avail. All three of us had to get our own.
My cousin asked the woman, "It's because we're white, isn't it?" She was not amused. I don't blame her.
Anyway, those were my first two experiences at Dollar Dog night, both at the Vet. And they were pretty epic. I mean, come on, 20 hot dogs in one order? That's the tits. And then, finding out I can only order 5 at once, most definitely because some jackass had ordered 20 at once the year before? Double tits. Only at the Vet.
Since those first two experiences, I've been to many, many Dollar Dog nights. Some were unspectacular. Others ended in drunken riots and hot dogs pelted at foes, most notably some jackass in a Ben Roethlisberger jersey as a chorus of "Pittsburgh Sucks!" chants rained down upon him. (The Phillies weren't even playing the pirates. What a schmuck.)
Tonight, I will embark on my first Dollar Dog night of the 2009 season. I'm guessing it won't be my last. Seeing as I'm a bit older and a lot less adept at eating, the chances of something unforgettable occurring for me personally aren't nearly as high. And I can't really get hammered because, well, I'm old and have to wake up for work tomorrow. I don't function well with hangovers like I once did. Of course, if Chan Ho Park decides to actually pitch good at home for once, something extraordinary just might happen.
Somehow I doubt it. But hell, I'll just settle for the guy keeping the ball in park. Hopefully playing against his former mates will be all the incentive he needs. If not, I got a Dollar Dog with his name on it if he can notch the win.
I'm hungry.
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