Help me out dog fans. Is it just me, Safeco Field, a national movement, or a conspiracy. Change is inevitable, not always for the good though. I would like to know-check that-I need to know, what happened to the hot dog vendor. Where is he? 

Once upon a time I would go the ballpark, sit and watch all the vendors coming by hawking their specialty. There was the ice cream vendor, the cracker jack vendor, the soda vendor, the one with cotton candy, and those selling programs, pennants, and souvenirs. But the one I eagerly awaited, the one I intently watched for, was the hot dog vendor.

Now I go to games and see mostly beer vendors, with an occasional toss from the peanut guy. But it has been years since I have seen the hot dog vendor come by  with his steaming metal tray of foil wrapped hot dogs, plain or mustard. 

Now if I want the ballpark dog, I must either get one or two prior to game time by making a purchase at one of many concession stands or leave during the game.

But heading to a concession stand once the game has started is out of the question. Once the game starts, just like a movie, I am locked in. Besides, if you leave after a half inning, so do many other people, there are long lines, and the people in front of you are unsure of what they want, they fumble for their money, change their mind, or add to their order, or jabber away about their sister’s cousin. And while this is going on Justin Smoak just homered off the Hit It Here Cafe.

 

I don’t want ketchup on my dog. Yuk. Nor do I need relish, sauerkraut, or whatever other condiments people slather on their dog. Okay, maybe some onions, but not with a female companion. I have seen some dogs so overloaded with gloopy goop I wonder if the eater ever tastes the dog. I just want that beautiful yellow mustard. Dog, mustard, bun.

The lack of hot dog vendors at Safeco is a travesty to the American way of life. The right to purchase a dog from your seat. I have sat all over the park, but to no avail. I miss that guy.