You know it's a good hot dog when...

We were sitting in Emmet's and Ethyl's, a little dive diner here in Lehi. I ordered the Bacon Dog. The lids to the medium drinks also fit the smaller water cups. How tight they fit is another matter entirely.

It is impossible to slide out of a booth in time to avoid the deluge of water that somehow all fits into one styrofoam cup as your baby launches it in your general direction. Of course it was aimed perfectly to all go right to the crotch, it couldn't have just poured on a knee or missed me all together. So after one long shocked intake of breath, some sort shallow breathing, a dance, a giggle or two, and a pile of soaked napkins I waddled to the men's room to see what could be done with a few paper towels.

I have often been a little annoyed at the air hand dryers in bathrooms. They never seem to actually dry your hands. Usually I end up drying my hands on my pants anyway after pretending to dry them under the tepid breeze.

But having a sodden pair of jeans in the least comfortable of places to be soggy made me raise an eyebrow at the hand dryer that caught my eye as if for the first time as I entered the men's room and started to look for some paper towels.

I was in a bathroom that instead of having multiple stalls was just one complete bathroom, so by locking the door I was instantly secure in my own little world. There would be no possibility of needing to invent awkward explanations if someone were to walk in on a variation of hand dryer usage likely not within normal manufacturer's guidelines.

The next fact to consider was the unfortunate reality that the water didn't just pour into my lap, it poured mainly into the seat right in front of my groin. I am unsure if "crotch" or "groin" is less offensive... Anyway, that means that the water didn't exactly soak into the top of my pants and simply standing near a hand dryer wasn't going to solve anything. I really had no intention of lying on the bathroom floor and trying to contort myself to quasi violate the wall mounted jet stream.

The door was locked.

Loafers slipped off.

Zip

Pull

Voila!

Instant pants dryer.

Humming seemed appropriate.

Jeans are apparently very absorbent.

More Humming.

I got them dry enough to feel clever.

By the time I got back to the table, redressed and drier. Our food had recently arrived.

I had informed the staff that there was a puddle to be mopped up, they didn't seem eager, energetic, or too concerned.

Water will cling to the underside of tables even after you think you have napkined off every possible surface.

As I sat there; puddle splashing, with cold fries, water dripping on the top of my leg, and a moist, though be it warm, personal area, I thought to myself;

"Dang! This is one good bacon-wrapped, deep-fried, sour kraut covered, bun toasted, loaded hot dog."