The Curse of the Street Vendor

I no longer trust anyone--anyone--who claims NY street hot dogs are good. Or even decent. I've never been an anti hot dog kind of girl. Granted, I never understood my friends that would eat them for both lunch and dinner, but I'm all about a hot dog during a backyard barbecue or even in the occasional macaroni and cheese creation. Yet after eating my two dollar lunch last Saturday, I just wanted to curl up in a warm tub, in bed or around a toilet.

It taught me that New York is most assuredly a dog-eat-dog kind of city or perhaps a child-eat-dog/parent-eat-dog kind of city since my brother, sister-in-law, nephews AND (barely teething) niece did just fine with the street vendor hot dogs. Apparently it's just not a city for the faint-stomached girl. Maybe Boston's made me a little too soft; all the vegetarian influences have lowered my resistances. I'll work on that before the summer barbecue season starts up again.

P.S. Other than that, New York was fabulous.