"Dammit! I missed the weenie!"
I had spotted it on my last ride to New York, driving home from a work thing with my friend, Donna, somewhere in the twenties along 95 North in Connecticut.
Since I knew that it was out there, I had prepared for it, on this ride home. Corb was in the driver's seat, and I was sitting in the passenger's side, with the New Yorker thrown to the floor and my trusty Canon dangling between my legs. And my gaze, ever alert, searching for sight if the elusive Super Weenie.
Even so, between all the 18-wheelers driving next to us, and Corb's habit of driving in the speed lane, despite my best efforts, I had missed the shot.
Corb could tell I was sulking.
"You're mad because we missed the weenie, aren't you?" he asked.
I shrugged. "A little."
Corb's Mom called out from the back. "He's mad about WHAT?"
"Hold on," said Corb, and made an abrupt right into the oncoming exit lane. "We're going to make a quick detour, mom. Ted's going to be all angry unless he gets a picture of his big weenie."
It's true, I get like that. I'm not going to say that it would have ruined the whole trip to New York, but it would have certainly ended things on a flat note. For days, I had been dreaming of taking a photo of the Super Weenie, had dreamed of that big pink sausage, spread out on the bun, with its yellow fluid drizzled all over it, like an orgasmic spray of advertising sputum. To not have the opportunity to capture this large weenie, now that I knew that it was out there...why, it was like Ponce de Leon looking for the Fountain of Youth...a holy grail, a reason for living, that just had to be achieved.
And Corb, god bless him, took it upon himself to take a side trip, in order to allow me capture the Super Weenie within my lens. We navigated through the mean street of Connecticut, almost ended up in a rear-end collision (how fitting)...and, finally, we were back where we had started, only this time, pulled over so the side of the road, so that I could take my photo.
"You did all that so that he could take a picture of THAT?" asked Corb's mother, looking at me as though I had two heads.
"Now you know what I live with..." replied Corb.
I am sad to report, however, that in our travels, we did get a chance to actually view Weenie World. After all the build-up, it turned out, as often is the case, in this and other things, despite all the noise, this weenie aint so super, after all. The Super Weenie store was not much bigger than your average KFC.
Still, I guess it's not the size of the store, but how that weenie feels in your mouth, that counts. Right?