|thanks to Jenna from Kitty Cat Stevens for pointing out the phallic nature of that trashcan on instagram. I can't unsee it now.|
From what I understand, part of the folklore behind this legendary hot dog eatery, is part of the experience is standing in line for a long time, before venturing into the cute little patio area behind it. However, I didn't even have to try to pull the wheelchair card- it was pulled by the lady behind the counter. As soon as she saw us get in queue, she told us to just find a seat...and that she would bring us a menu and take our order! SCORE! [Tanegnt: I mean, as much as I wanted to soak it all in and be authentic, I was already melting into the pavement. I could forgo this one little detail.] This meant we were done with our meal and heading out before the people in front of us had even gotten their food. Disabled people perks.
My brother ordered The Mulholland Drive; I had the mushroom and Swiss and my mom had one that was bedecked with custom fixins like sauerkraut, mustard and pickles. They were all delightful and cost around $5. God, I love a bargain!
My favrorite part were the onion rings, which were probably the best I have ever had. The onion to fried ratio was perfection and the batter was light and almost had a funnel cake quality to it. They made my internal fat kid so happy!
I loved Pink's because they are a little trashy and no fuss; I feel at home. I mean while we ate and enjoyed the summer breeze, we watched a schitzo homeless man talk to the trashcan before digging out a half eaten weiner and two finger scooping some chili off a nearby container and slinging it in his cheek like a slug of chaw. You really can't buy that kind of ambiance.
|here's my mom and bro as hot dogs!|