I've said it before and I'll say it again. There's nothing like a hot dog at Wrigley Field. Now, I'm sure you may find better tasting ones elsewhere. And you may find more appealing toppings elsewhere. And you may get a prettier presentation elsewhere. And you may find a more economical one elsewhere. But, when you love the Cubbies and the Friendly Confines like I do, nothing tastes better than a steamed dog eaten in the stands at Wrigley Field.
Last week I had the good fortune of scoring some free front row tickets from a friend/co-worker who knows I'm a big fan. I sat next to one of the team's biggest fans, a lady named Dorothy Farrel, who happened to be celebrating her 87th birthday from her single season ticket seat behind the visitors dugout where she's been sitting for every home game for the past 29 years. I offered to buy her a hot dog when I got mine, but she refused. "You can make your own for a quarter," she grumbled. "Sometimes you just have to splurge, Dorothy," I told her. "I suppose," she said, but she still wouldn't accept one.
Sure, $5.50 is a ridiculous price for a hot dog. We all know you could cook a whole pack or two with buns and condiments for that price. But it just wouldn't taste the same.