He was finally here. The Big Apple. The largest city in the world.
David had taken his first steps onto American soil. He'd dreamed of this day since he was a boy, and now he was here. Big buildings, a rainbow of cars packed down the skinny streets, people from every walk of life shuffling through on their own business, and people on bicycles going faster than either of them, flipping off everyone for unknown reasons. He passed an impressive large bank with deep stone steps and columns like the Maison Carrée. Based on all the imported TV shows he'd watched, he was surprised that the front doors didn't immediately fly open, a cadre of robbers in striped shirts and domino masks bursting out with bags emblazoned with dollar signs.
Unlike most of the people surrounding him, David walked with a smile on his face. He should look for one of those street merchants that sell the "I Heart NY" shirts to bring home... or maybe to wear himself. Maybe the high steps and the unheard tune in his ears might indicate him as a tourist, as everyone else seemed to be pushed down buy the overwhelming amount of... stuff surrounding them. So many people, such big buildings, so much noise...
David strode happily down the sidewalk, a large fenced-off park on one side of him. He saw a line of people waiting for something. He looked up the queue to see what people would be willing to wait for in this city, where time was money.
At the front of the line was a shiny, polished stainless steel hot dog cart. And perhaps his eyes were deceiving him, but the sausages were being prepared and dispensed by a nude woman.
David wiped his glasses on his necktie, as he often did when he saw something he couldn't explain. Maybe she was topless rather than completely naked, as her lower half was hidden by the cart. This could be in the American tradition of the topless car wash that somehow saves the community center at the end of the movie, right after the nerd decks the jock and takes his girlfriend.
He was a little peckish after getting off the plane, so why not? David normally questioned the cleanliness of street food, but in America, land of the lawsuit... maybe they had strict regulations that made them as clean as any five-star restaurant. He entered the queue and waited his turn.
Only when the line diminished to the point where he was next in line was David finally close enough to notice something. He had been politely keeping his gaze elsewhere, not wanting to gawk at the woman's nudity. He looked up at the trees, trying to spot a North American squirrel, as they were supposed to be different to the ones he knew from home.
But what he hadn't noticed until now was that the woman running the hot dog stand... had a penis. A substantial one, fully erect, and one that she was rubbing herself.
David looked away for a moment... but then looked back just in time to hear the woman moan as she pointed the tip of her penis at a hot dog... and squirted a yellow sauce in a perfect ribbon onto the hot dog.
Certainly, David was accustomed to the idea that something yellow would emerge from there. And he preferred mustard to... the alternative. David watched in a mix of astonishment and horror as the man passed a few bills to the woman as he took a bite from the end of the hot dog. He couldn't even wait for the transaction to be finished. He was that eager to eat this dog, decorated with something from deep within her.
"Thanks for coming! Oh, wait, that was me!" The woman pointed at the man as she joked. She was almost the archetypal American woman: golden blonde hair pulled back into a pony tail, sun-kissed skin, and large breasts that may or may not have been real. Maybe the stereotype of Americans would suggest that she'd be fat, but this woman was quite toned, with a flat stomach and shapely legs.
Of course, what really cried out "American" to David was her personality. Bold yet gregarious, with a sense of humor, even at work. And she was certainly... outgoing. He expected to see some woman walking around in one of those American flag bikini tops, but the only thing this woman had on between her slightly dusty Nikes and her red visor was a single disposable glove on her non-dominant hand. Maybe David would find himself more outgoing if he was in control of such a big... thing. He'd never heard any complaints, but jeepers...
The woman saw the last customer off as he continued his day, and her blue eyes fell on him. David felt a jolt of tension enter his heart. To suddenly be SEEN by the beautiful nude woman, as if the woman on his naughty calendar suddenly looked out to him.
"Hey, how are ya?" The woman shouted, as if David wasn't only a few steps in front of her. "Welcome to Fran's Footlong Franks! Wanna dog?"
It took a moment for David to find his voice again. "Uh, yeah, sure."
"Comin' right up!" Her tongs were already in the cart, summoning a long sausage from within. She nestled it into a presliced bun with amazing precision, as she had doubtless done thousands of times before.
The woman (presumbaly Fran, but she didn't wear a name tag) took the hot dog and brought it between her legs. Before her other hand could reach her hard extension, David put up both hands.
"Uh, please hold the mustard." He asked. "Don't you have... ketchup?"
"Ketchup??" Fran sneered. "On a hot dog? What are ya, five?"
"I'm from Israel." David put up his hands. "I don't know anything about hot dogs."
She sighed. "If ya don't want the mustard, I ain't gonna make ya. It's fine." Fran handed him the undressed dog, shaking her head gently at the silly, naked, flesh-colored thing. How silly she thought that thing looked with nothing on it.
There was something fleshy and naked that David was looking at. It even sparkled with a patina of moisture like a freshly cooked hot dog, but it was not being sold for three bucks. He passed her a $20 bill. "I hope I'm not taking all your change. I just got those bills."
"If there's one thing a hot dog cart's always got... it's change." She made the change out of her cash box, again with one hand. She clearly didn't want to touch the money with the gloved hand that touched the bun and the paper tray in which the bun rested.
"Thank you." David accepted the change, dropping it in the pocket of his coat. He went to bite the end of the dog, but hesitated. "Is this beef or pork?"
"Do you stay kosher?" Fran asked.
David answered honestly. "...mostly?"
"You'll be fine." Fran waved him off. "Thanks for touchin' my weiner!"
David took a step back and almost took a bite.
"Hey, mac!" Fran called again. "If you want some ketchup, see if she got some across the street. But don't eat anything else in there! It's 100% rat."
"Across the street..." David mumbled as he looked at the building facing her. The corner of the nearest building was a restaurant with a red canopy standing off the brick. The neon sign said 'Patty's Burgers." There were a few external tables with umbrellas where people were eating hamburgers.
Of course. The only meal more American than the hot dog. In fact, the sausage had its origins squarely in Europe. But then again, so did America. Surely, any hamburger joint would have some ketchup for this dog... and while he was at it, he could try the national dish as made by those who knew it best.
David passed the front entrance and was faced with another line. The restaurant was bustling, most of the booths filled with patrons munching their burgers. Before the customers took bites out of them, they looked really good, with colorful vegetation and tall buns flecked with sesame seeds. He saw someone lick something pink-orange off the corner of his mouth, a sauce that he hadn't seen before. Was this that 'fry sauce' that was all the rage nowadays?
As he got closer to the counter, he watched as staff darted around behind the woman at the register. She occasionally barked orders to the back, trying to be heard over the sound of chopping onions and the ever-present sizzle of the giant griddle, where one overweight man stood in front of a griddle with several round lumps of beef sizzling away, watching over it like a shepherd watching over his flock.
