It was dusk. I was weary. And that shadowy shape coming up Guadalupe looked familiar.
It had been a good day. The NIT’s return was announced. Our pageviews shot through the roof. Stuart got some good news about the other business he runs, which is good news for our ability down the line to keep this blog afloat. And so, as I drove from a Philadelphia-themed sandwich shop in a strip mall on Burnet where the three Eagles jerseys on the wall are the amazing combination of Nick Foles, Carson Wentz, and Brent Celek, none of whom are currently Philadelphia Eagles, to a food truck on the Drag where the guy inside seemed vaguely mad at me, I was in good spirits. Dazed, but in good spirits.
And then I saw it.
It happened so fast. You don’t expect to see the Wienermobile in person, you know? Not without some warning, anyway. I’d spent a lot of time on Twitter yesterday, too. But there it was. Hulking. Shiny. Hot dog-shaped. Emerging from the shadows.
It was dark enough that the whole thing looked gray from a distance, leading me to think I was thinking I was seeing the Wienermobile but was actually seeing some unconventional dump truck. I also expected more fanfare. But it was the real deal. The Oscar Mayer Wienermobile itself. Cruising past my drivers side window at 65 miles per hour (we were both going 30 or 35).
You never think, “What’s my reaction going to be if the Wienermobile shows up at my place of work?” You aren’t prepared for that kind of thing. It’s like a meteor, or a guy accidentally deploying bear spray, or a loose kangaroo. You don’t expect it to happen, and so you don’t know what it will be like for you.
Now, I know. It turns out that when I pass the Wienermobile while driving Stuber Eats, I yell my guts out like a caveman who just found out his favorite team won whatever the caveman equivalent is of the Super Bowl. Noises. No words. Lots of excitement.
A touch of the divine on a Monday evening.
Icing on the cake of a good day—or mustard on the hotdog…..