2:00 a.m., a phone call, and suddenly I'm back in a car on the way to hot dogs in Ballard with two coworkers that I've just passed in the passenger seat of another car a few minutes back. After a show of amazing photos, my lips later stained red from the bottle of Hungarian wine mostly consumed in the company of two of my favorite folks, I find myself waiting in line near a man with a cart. The lady behind me has been talking to my friend and turns to me with, "You look like a mermaid."
I have no tail, but I'm all for it. "Thanks!"
I order my hot dog with cream cheese (it's a Dante dog) and just ketchup, and she pipes up, "That's mermaid food!"
I'm still all for it, even though I always figured mermaids ate seafood. "Totally! Mermaids love ketchup!"
Hotdogs at 2 in the morning, mostly inebriated, are the best hotdogs I've ever tasted.
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