Blog Slacker…
Oops…sorry to take so long! I left a cliffhanger at the end of the last entry too…how rude of me to take weeks to get back to that.
But hey, I’ve been busy…more on that later.
Now on to ‘The Craziest Food Joint Ever!’…The Weiner Circle.
I heard rumors of the Weiner Circle from the rest of the bootsnall crew. They went on Friday night, when I was already sleeping. But when they told me about it…I thought they were kidding.
It seems the Weiner Circle is something of a Chicago institution. Late at night all the city’s drunks converge on the place and chaos erupts. (My picture was taken at 3:30am) There’s lots of yelling and shoving to get to the front to order, but that’s not the crazy part. The crazy part is that the staff curses you out as you order!
After pushing my way to the front I asked for a hotdog…simple enough. Unfortunately I wasn’t familiar with the long list of possible toppings, so the craziness began. To be honest, my guy took some pity on me and decided, after one second’s hesitation, that I would have it Chicago-style. Chicago-style includes slices of tomato, a pickle spear, onions, cheese and some hyper-green relish that is not a color you normally find in food.
While I’m waiting I’m becoming way too familiar with my neighbors. One tall guy actually leans over my head to order, all but nocking me down. I’ve got my money in my hand waiting to pay, but no one has told me how much yet. The cashier looks at me, snears and says, “Where’s my money and my tip bitch!?!” Well, I’m well in the mood for this ridiculousness now so I respond with some choice words of my own, something along the lines of, “If you told me how much it f***ing was I’d give you the money b***h.” This is, of course, rather tame by Weiner Circle standards and she laughs at me a little.
Eventually I got my hotdog, piled high with things I didn’t know I was ordering and was ready to make my way outside…when I hear the crowd starting to chant, “Chocolate Shake! Chocolate Shake!” I’d heard of a rumor of the “Chocolate Shake” but it was, in fact, these rumblings that made me doubt every word I heard about the place. The Chocolate Shake is not an ice-creamy beverage. It’s a sideshow in a circus.
When the chant goes up and a suitable number of people have joined in one of the workers will name a figure, sometimes $10, sometimes $20. If the fee is ponied up then the crowd is treated to one of the woman who work there lifting their shirt, and jiggling what they got. These are BIG women. These are big women without bras. And seeing as how everyone who works there is African-American…well, there’s your chocolate.
The night I was there, no one came up with the money. And I can’t say I feel I missed out…
Tags: Life at 'Home'
LizG