The Mythical Fenway Frank

Now, Fenway is a special, special place. The roar of the crowds, the history of the park, the manual scoreboard, the Green Monster, the seats made for hobbits.. but the most well known item in that park, aside from the players, has to be the Fenway Frank. A much talked about hotdog that requires a significant amount of patience and wealth to acquire. Whether you brave the concession stand lines (often shorter then the ladies' restroom though), or sit in your ticketed spot and wait for a Fenway concessioneer in bright yellow to come your way in the stands, you will wait a long, long time. And then, you have to work out how to 'fix' your frank the right way. From the line you've got to make your way to the napkin/ketchup/mustard table. You can only hope you're not trying to purchase multiple items for multiple people or the balancing act can get supremely entertaining. Pump as much of the yellow and red stuff onto your dog and then make darn sure not to drop it. The stay-at-your-seat alternative though isn't much better -having your dog handed down an entire length of fellow game-watchers in your row, hand after sweating hand, along with limited packets of the red, yellow and (ew) green stuff you might want. I've never ordered onions - good luck getting onions. Point being.. to deal with this mess, that frank had better taste like Filet.
And um yeah, the last Fenway frank I had was the greatest letdown of all time... it was literally cooked SO long that the center of the dog had petrified. It has charred and turned into jerky almost. Can you believe I still ate it? Well, the damn thing cost me at least $5 (I don't remember the prices cause I have blocked out my bankruptcy from one game of two drinks and a dog)... and had taken me a good 25 min to acquire in line.. so by the time we found someplace nice to stand outside where we wouldn't get pushed and shoved, I was NOT about to go complaining to the concession stand about wanting a replacement. But seriously, I've learned a valuable lesson. You're not buying the fenway frank cause it's good, nutritious or even tasty. You're buying into the lure and myth of ballpark history - complete with a hotdog nearly as old as the park itself!

Trust me, the next game I went to, I ate beforehand and very much enjoyed the suckers dropping their cash on the franks knowing I had a much better and more affordable meal. I'd venture to say even McDonalds would have been an improvement, and a trip to the golden arches for me almost always includes a long visit to the porcelain prison afterwards, so that is saying a LOT!

Go Sox!