The Daily O’Collegian

The shiny metal hot-dog cart with its bi-colored umbrella sitting outside of Willie’s Saloon is a regular — and in some cases, an extremely needed or welcomed — sight for people who frequent Washington Street late at night.

Whit Theobald knows the stand is not a glamorous job, but the strategic location on ‘The Strip’ makes for a worthwhile night.

“Some girls pull up their shirts for hot dogs,” he said, laughing. “Makes things interesting here.”

Joe Cervantes, owner of Stonewall Tavern and previous manager of Willie’s, owns and manages the cart.

Its normal home is in the back of Cervantes’ truck at Stonewall Tavern, but most nights it is stationed less than 10 feet from the entrance of Willie’s.

“Because there’s more traffic, and if it’s at Stonewall, there’s not a lot of foot traffic there, just people coming in and out,” Theobald said. “You’ve got everyone down here.”

Being located close to Willie’s definitely helps business, he said.

“This is right outside of a bar so the first thing they see when they come out is me,” he said. “If they’re hungry, it’s closer and cheaper than McDonald’s, and Pita Pit’s further and more expensive.”

However, being in the middle of a string of bars and catering mainly to customers who have been drinking does have its drawbacks, including rowdy people, he said.

“I’ve had people want to fight me,” Theobald said. “This guy came down here, and I gave him the wrong change back, and he was too drunk to even know, and I was like, ‘Oh man, I gave you the wrong change back. Here, you need another dollar.’

“And he went over by that little metal stand right there, was eating his hot dog, just started staring at me. I was like, ‘What’s your problem?’ He just came over here and kept on telling me I was afraid of him.”

He also said another employee at the stand had about $30 stolen from his tip jar one night.

“My buddy Luke, who trained me, said: ‘Always remember this: it’s just a hot-dog stand,’” Theobald said. “When the line gets really long or people are giving you crap, it doesn’t matter. This is just a hot-dog stand.

“If somebody’s giving me crap, I don’t have to take it. I don’t have to serve them anything. But for the most part, I’d say, 85 to 90 percent of the time, people are cool.”

Theobald, a 22-year-old fire protection senior, works the stand one to three nights during the week, and will celebrate his second anniversary as a “hot-dog stand man” in March.

He gets paid $21 a night, but says he shoots to take home $50 each night with tips included.

The best part of the job is that it’s good money, and it’s easy, Theobald said.

The worst part?

“Annoying people, but that comes with the territory,” he said. “Most people are pretty cool down here. (Also), late nights, just because I have early classes sometimes. I’m usually home 2:30, 3-ish.”

The stand is usually set up between 11 p.m. and midnight. Patrons aren’t limited to just plain $2 hot dogs. The stand also offers messy goodies such as nachos and Frito chili pies and carries a wide variety of toppings for the dogs — at a small extra charge, of course.

“A kid I know said he wanted a hot dog with everything on it,” Theobald said. “Everything is chili, cheese, sauerkraut, jalapenos.

“He put every single thing he could put on it, including Tabasco sauce, crushed-up Fritos and peanut butter.”

Yes, peanut butter. The stand used to sell “Skippy dogs,” which are hot dogs with peanut butter on them, and which Theobald said were quite popular.

“But we don’t have (them) anymore because (Cervantes) can’t find (Skippy) at the store anymore,” he said. “I can’t stand them. I think they’re disgusting, actually.”

Theobald estimated that eight to 10 packages, or 80 to 100 hot dogs, are sold a night.

Theobald is not alone in his vocation. Accommodation and food services made up more than 8 percent of all employment and almost 7 percent of all establishments in the United States last year, according to the Bureau of Labor Statistics.

Also, cities like Chicago and New York are famous for their stands and types of hot dogs named for them, and Chicago alone has almost 2,000 stands, according to a New York Times estimate.

However, this particular stand is one-of-a-kind to Stillwater — and, apparently, a popular place to satisfy one’s “beer munchies.”

“I’ve never eaten here before,” said a giggling female customer who had just walked up.

“I want…I want…I don’t know what I want,” her friend relays.

“Can I get a chili cheese dog, por favor, mi amigo?” she says after making her selection.

One girl recounts a night when the stand only had two dogs left and the man in front of her was buying both, so she begged him for one.

Another tells about dropping a half-eaten dog on the ground, then picking it up and finishing it.

“I gotta pee!” a guy hurrying by declares loudly.

A stretch limo emblazoned with a huge logo that reads “Blake O.” drives up to the traffic light and stops. The windows roll down, and the men inside inquire as to a good place to go find women. Theobald points them in the direction of Eskimo Joe’s because it’s Bottomless Bottle Thursday and women drink free. He then asks what “Blake O.” is.

“A rapper,” they reply, not one of the four looking like a rapper.

The light turns green, and the limo makes a tentative, sloppy left turn.

“What do you got here, bro?” a guy with a group of friends stops to ask. Theobald points at the large, obvious menu on the front of the cart.

“Could I get chili and cheese, please, sir?” he asks.

“You’re going to have that s— all over you,” his friend says.

“I don’t care,” the guy replies. “I’m so hungry for a hot dog, and it’s a chilly night, so I need chili on it.”

His friends burst into laughter as if that is the funniest thing they have ever heard.

Theobald laughs with the inebriated jokester and his friends, then proceeds to scoop steaming chili onto a dog.

All in a night’s work on ‘The Strip.’