Hot Dogging in Vienna

A fictional travelogue; four minutes to read.

In Vienna, the premier contemporary art museum is the Albertina, curating over a million drawings and a renowned Impressionist collection. Across a busy thoroughfare, the Renaissance Revival Vienna State Opera House seats 1700 people. Sitting inside is like sitting inside a wedding cake.

Like two proud parents bending protectively over their baby’s crib, the museum and the opera house hover above the Bitzinger Wurstelstand, Vienna’s world famous hot dog stand. Bitzinger hot dogs have attitude. A self-confidant aplomb like that of an Olympic gymnast who just stuck her landing to win the gold.

From early morning to late evening, thirty to forty hungry mouths are queued up on a smidge of sidewalk tucked between the two arts institutions. Everyone—no matter their station or status, national origin or ethnic heritage—is humbled before the Bitzinger hot dog.

Waiting my turn, inching forward in line, I eavesdrop on an opera-going couple in tuxedo and ball gown discussing the evening’s performance. Also in line, and much noisier, are skateboarders in unisex hoodies clowning around, teasing, bragging, squabbling about their favorite rappers. In this miniature moment of egalitarianism, there’s unspoken kinship and community—a hot-dogged diversity.

The aroma of savory, fresh meat sizzling on a grill, the scent wafting with the breezes, hugs me. Peeking into the glass-enclosed cook area, I fixate on the grilling hot dogs—each one a tubular bit of joy. Two cooks move with robotic efficiency, taking and fulfilling orders.

My hot dog—a blend of beef and pork—is stuffed lengthwise into a soft, crusty, buttery bread roll, then infused with warm Emmentaler cheese and kissed with bright yellow mustard. None of the toppings or distractions common to an American hot stand are on offer.

From the first bite, my tastebuds find the happiness they have been seeking without knowing they were seeking it. A moment to savor in the short gap before my next hot dog order, thirty-five seconds from now.

As if the hot dogs are brandy-infused, I am intoxicated. A tremor rumbles through me. In my mouth inspiration is waiting for me, ready to be ingested from another culture.

The Bitzinger is the transformative travel moment every traveler longs for. A Vienna hot dog is my all-in-one refreshment—fulfilling my need for tasty food along with my desire to learn from my travels. To get new ideas. To change how I do things.

As I wipe my lips of mustard, I resolve to dump my high school civics class lecture about the American ‘melting pot.’ No more droning on about the moral imperative of welcoming refugees fleeing poverty or political tyranny. Instead, I will give my students something meaty to chew on—the hot dog.

I will assign homework about the immigrant German-Jewish butcher Charles Feltman—an early tech innovator. In 1867, he invented and beta-tested the hot dog cart on New York’s Coney Island boardwalk.

When they read President Kennedy’s A Nation of Immigrants, they’ll learn that America’s genius and greatness depends on its newcomers. They will discover that foreigners—not the Pilgrims, not the Founding Fathers—imported, market-tested and popularized the hot dog in America.

Click here for more short stories set in Austria.