Hydration and hot dogs

I bought a hotdog from the street vendor. It was one of those days when the whole city breaks out its sunglasses and is in a good mood. The street vendor noticed me walking towards him and called out, “Hey baby.” He was pretty hot, until I noticed his yellow teeth. We chatted while he fixed my dog up with onions and ketchup. I handed him $2 but he smiled and said, “For you, baby, only $1.” Oh yeah.

Just then, a beat-up white van pulled up to the curb, the driver’s arm hanging out the window with $2 clenched in his hand. “Hey, give me a water,” he yelled. The vendor walked to the driver, gave him a bottle of water, and when the light chanced the driver peeled out.

And I thought, huh, this must be how taxi drivers get hydrated. No drive throughs in NYC, people. And no parking spaces to leave the cab while you jet into a deli.