Erotic Hot Dog Contest - 2008

Several years ago America lost the Little League World series to Taiwan, Japan, and the Dominican Republic. NBA All-Stars were second-rate in the World Championships, however the USA was shocked by Takeru Kobayashi beating scores of heavyweight Yanks at Coney Island’s fabled hot dog eating contest and the diminutive Asian clung to his title like Michael Jordan and the Bulls, culminating with his 2006 feat, 53 3/4 frankfurters in 12 minutes.

Thankfully in 2008 an equally thin Joey Chestnut of San Jose, California regained the title with a record downing of 59 1/2 hot dogs and the world. This year the competition was open to all-comers and on the 4th of July I was sitting at Pattaya's Pigpen A Go-Go with Jamie Parker.

The New Yorker expat hadn't seen Ort in a long time and he had gained back a little weight since his Ice episode with the lithe go-go dancer. Neither of us mentioned her name, but she was still on his mind, even when he said, “This morning on TV I saw that Jap hot dog eater win his another title at Nathan's. All these fat American contestants upchucked hot dogs, while the damned foreigner calmly sucked down weiners like he was from Dusseldorf. Even weirder, his stomach showed no sign of expansion and the audience had no idea where they were going.”

“Very impressive.” I had watched the same TV show and attempted to imitate the Jap's style, only managing three in a minute. My stomach had yet to recover from the effort and I asked the bar owner, "Who here do you think would win?"

Jamie looked around the bar. His skinny farang clientele liked the fat dancers wobbling around the steel poles. I didn't understand the attraction.

"Ei-Yet." He pointed to the the ancient forty-kilo cashier. "I've seen her eat non-stop for hours."

"It's a Thai genetic trait. They eat as if there's not tomorrow." My wife was a very healthy eater. Mam could eat with the best of them.

More than me any day.

“Who in Pattaya wants to watch skinny farangs eat hot dogs?”

“Fat farangs looking for a free meal.”

Bars offering free food floated balloons and Pattaya's free food crowd were called balloon chasers.

“There’s enough of them here.”

"No, but there would be more if you held an erotic hot dog eating contest including bar girls. Remember how Kenny at Living Dolls had the girls fellate banana.”

“And how they carved them into penises with their teeth.” The British manager had revitalized showtime on Walking Street with his gift for the perverse.

“Sheer artistry.” Jamie also had a fine aesthetic for the erotic arts. “But I’ve always thought nothing was sexier than a girl eating a hot dog at a baseball game. Struggling to keep the relish and mustard from falling down her chest.”

“You do?” My extensive research into porno websites had never turned up this fetish.

“A lot of men do, but don’t realize it.”

“Really? I thought they were more burger fans.” Pattaya women don’t like sloppy.

“Doesn’t matter what they are. We can host a combined erotic hot dog eating contest with a hot dog championship. We could pack the bar with guys and also video the event for sale on the Internet.”

“I don’t know.”

“We’ll hold it at 12 noon Eastern Standard Time for the stockbrokers getting ready for lunch. Once a week. Different girls and you can vote online.” Jamie was breathing fast. "We make tee-shirts of the winner and then hold contests between different bars. Then it's on to TV. I'll be the Chuck Barris of Hot Dog Eating contests."

Jamie weaved on his stool.

“Are you all right?”

"No."

I signaled Ei-Yet for a glass of water. The forty year-old ex-stripper and I went back years. We had both seen countless farangs keel over at bars. The water came in seconds and Jamie sucked it down

“Fine, I just got a glimpse of the future.” He envisioned the money rolling into his PayPal account.

“And?”

“Better I leave erotic hot dog eating in my head, because the idea would become ruined by commercialism. All dreams are.” He settled down and drank his beer. “Maybe next year the world will be ready for it.”

Jamie was right.

We will be waiting, because eating hot dogs are sexy.

With mustard. p>"Never ketchup, for as my grandfather said, "Never trust a man who puts ketchup on his hot dog."

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Much more to come.

Journal Entry - June 14, 1977 (Berkeley Street)

DREAMS

I walk through the darkness and the sound of bells peal from the Brooklyn churches call for everyone to leave Earth, except for me and 125 women. Why they left and we stayed is beyond me.

President Jimmy Carter and I pull up to a yacht club. He went directly to the Sequoia and I drank with friends. Cher came into the bar and couldn't find a seat.

I gave her mine.

LATER

Clinton Avenue

Matthew and I had a good time at Coney Island. He badly wanted a roller coaster ride, except the Cyclone was under repair. The ocean was hurting with tar and shit in the surf. The beach was covered wth trash, broken glass from decades of human abuse. Matthew and I rode the bumping car, which were great fun, until he lost a contact lens.

I'm heading to Hunter College for my bi-weekly acting class. Tonight should be strange.

Rare are the summer days of clear light The sun can not burn off the haze. Rarer still are the days of easy breathing But I knew that when I moved here From Boston in a stolen car At night driven by the need to leave a racist city Gambling all on the love of a southern woman. Ro left for Paris the day I arrived The stolen car gone with the dawn too.

LATER

I spoke with Libby on the phone. She has my silver brush. I won't have to stop in Westport on the way to Boston.

Class tonight with Billy reenacting a drunken bout and I released into a combative character, but improv is a game allowing people to walk inside you.

Chuck is enthused about my script D. DESCENDING. His reading from it makes me understand how far I have to go with writing. He and Carla play roles in various scenes. She goes home with me, but yturns around to watch Chuck. Man and Wife once. Still in love. She's just killing time with me.

THE WONDER WHEEL by Peter Nolan Smith

Memorial Day was America's introduction to summer.
It was a good day to visit Coney Island.

Ellen's Argentinean friends wanted to see the sea.
They walked on the pier.

The Atlantic was cold and the sun was hot.
They walked back to what was once The Great White Way.

The Giant Elephant was gone,
So were the bathhouses,
But the Wonderwheel stood its ground.

Ellen and the Argentines bought tickets.
Their car soared into the sky.
There were no clouds.

Only the beach, the people, and the cold green Atlantic.
From the top of the spin Ellen saw swimmers in the water.
She could feel the cold and thought, "How cold could it be?"

The hoi polloi leaping off the pier knew how cold.
Ellen took photos from the top.
Photography was her art.

None of her models went to the Freak Show.
Ellen was an artist
And artists see the truth where no one else sees it.
Even from the top of the Wonder Wheel.

The Wonder Wheel stopped at the bottom and Ellen got off the ride.
Her friends looks at her, "What next?"
She was not from New York,
But the first time she came to New York,
She came to see Coney Island.

The years had not been kind to Coney Island.
The Cyclone was ready for arson.

NBA star Stephon Marbury came from the Surfside Gardens.
He learned ball on those court.
Those boys had a tough game.

Then was a long time ago
And now was today.
Ellen turned to her friends.

"We can go to Nathans."
Her friend Peter had suggested a hot dog there.
The Argentines said, "Yes."
Nothing was more American than a hot dog
And nothing was more America than Coney Island.
Not in Brooklyn and not in 2015.

It was the world.

THANKS TO ALL THE PHOTOGRAPHERS

I LOVE YOUR WORK.

Bringing the Title Back Home

In 2007 the USA failed to qualify for the finals of sailing's most prestigious title, The America Cup, however Joey Chesnut of Potomac Falls, VA vanquished the six-time defending hot dog eating champ Takeru Kobayashi and brought the trophy back to the States. 

At the annual Fourth of July eat-off the two finalists were tied at 60 hot dogs at 11 minutes and the crowd at Nathan's of Coney Island chanted, "USA USA USA." while taunting his opponent with "Tora Tora Tora." 

Momentarily Kobayashi seemed to have also eaten his sixty-third hot dog, until he spit pout the last bite at the buzzer, while the Potomac Falls VA. resident swallowed his last bite and said, "I could eat another, if I had to."

The Champ relinquished his title and explained that he had been laid low by a wisdom tooth extraction. He was a loser, but still game. "I'll beat him next year."

A great 4th of July victory for the States.

Several years ago I traveled uptown to The Spanish-American Museum in Harlem. A Swedish art dealer wanted me to look at a Goya painting in the collection, since he was trying to sell an undocumented painting from Russia as a Goya. I looked at the photo of his and I said, "Not even close."

Afterwards I walked back to the subway and spotted Charlie's Soul Kitchen, which offered 'all you could eat' for $9.99."

I was hungry and loaded a plate with brisket, collard green, fried chicken et al.

The restaurant was crowded with overweight diners.

The fat man at the opposite table laughed at my effort. 

"I haven't begun to eat."

"You don't have a chance, little man."

I weighed 200 pounds.

He was twice that size and I challenged him to an 'eat-off'.

Three plates later he was sweating bullets, although when I went up for dessert, he smiled with the taste of victory.

He was a little premature and I said, "Just clearing my palate."

I ate another plate of everything and nearly died from my excess, still I was wondering about how many hot dogs I could eat in 12 minutes.

20?

Three years ago in Sri Racha, Thailand I got down three hot dogs before feeling ill. The soi dogs ate the other nine from the package and my little puppy got one. The biggest dog ate 3 in ten seconds and looked for more. Obviously dogs aren't allowed in the Nathan's contest.

I won't be either, for I felt like an Alien was giving birth in my belly for the rest of the day.

Instead it was heartburn.

In my stomach.

And I lost to a dog.

Oh, poor America.

The Fort Greene Observatory

Hurricane Sandy barely touched Fort Greene. Trees were knocked down in the park and the internet service has been off for a day, otherwise this neighborhood weathered the storm with ease. We are 120 feet above sea level. Coney Island and the other low-lying areas of city were not so lucky. Lower Manhattan remains without power. Yesterday I bicycled over the Manhattan Bridge to Chinatown. The queues for the Fung Wah bus were around the block. Enterprising merchants were charging phones and computers with portable generators. A few restaurants were selling food outside on the sidewalk, however they were swiftly closed by health inspectors. The Tombs were open for business and I saw two white people led intot the criminal court by cops. The only reports of looting have come from Coney Island. The greater threat are gangs of organized criminals seeking to hit the most ravaged sections of the city. Most of them will be wearing a uniform. Be careful, people. The Fort Greene Observatory will be watching.