“All day long, he fusses over a collection of dogs that bob and boil in an overheated tank. He smiles and makes change, and then when the sun goes down, he packs up his cart and trundles back to where he came from. This has been his daily ritual ever since the BVM started appearing at the golf club. I don’t think he’s getting rich from selling hot dogs, but he seems satisfied with the turnout each day and encouraged by the fact that he’s busy noon till nighttime. “Look,” Angela says as we sit on... a couple of milk crates that we’ve placed not far from the hot-dog stand. “It’s like he’s studying us. Wave.” And we both hold up our half-eaten hot dogs for him to see; with our other hands we wave and then give him big smiles, as if we’re two all-American teens on their first date. He waves back and shows us his teeth. “I bet he thinks we’re on a date,” she says to me. “Aren’t we?” “I guess that depends.” “On what?” I ask. She stares at me for almost a full minute and then stuffs the last of her hot dog into her mouth.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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