Absent Vendor

Today I spent some time at the local library trying to be productive. I failed miserably, spending the majority of my time stalking friends on facebook and composing unnecessary emails. After an hour or so, the asylum-type silence was too much to bear. I gathered my belongings and ran outside into the overcast sky. I wandered down to Adams Park, and sat on a park bench. I scribbled a bit in my journal and took in my surroundings: the purple irises, lush green leaves, and the bubbling sounds of the central fountain, until my stomach rumbled. I wandered down to the corner of Wesley and Cross in search of the hot dog vendor and his cart.

When I arrived at his usual perch, the vendor was nowhere to be found.  I walked around the perimeter of the park, hoping I would find him in an alternative location, a different corner, but I had no such luck. Feeling utterly disappointed, I trekked down to the coffee shop for a cup of homemade brew, but nothing could replace my desire for a Chicago-style dog from a true Chicago vendor. Actually, I can't say that I was disappointed by this event. I was more than that. I was mortified and deeply saddened. There is something special about purchasing a hot dog from an aluminum cart, in the middle of a park on a Tuesday afternoon. The absence of the hot dog vendor took a little bit of my summer joy and as a result I am feeling grumpy. Maybe the hot dog vendor will be back at his post tomorrow afternoon. For now, I will sulk and sip my coffee.