I set down the hot dog on the seat next to me while I pulled out my laptop from my bag. Midway through this task I received a text message (does your heart jump happily every time you hear that little "You have a new text message" ping? Mine still does). I attempted to read and respond to the message while simultaneously untangling my laptop from a spare adaptor, my camera and my curling iron. At some point during this not uncommon struggle between me and my electronic devices, my cheese dog escaped its bun and rolled to the floor.My brain, naturally prioritizing food above everything else, instructed me to drop my phone and laptop and lunge for the dog. The hot dog hit the floor fantastically and sprayed me with cheese, but I managed to grab it shortly after it made contact with the linoleum. I picked up a few napkins and swiped at the dog until most of the cheese was off and all I had left was a damp weiner. Then I stared at it and considered my options.
This is what the various debate team members trapped inside my brain discussed amongst themselves:
Member 1: The dog cost three bucks. You have forty dollars in your pocket to buy something else. If you eat the dog, you could possibly die from whatever it picked up from that floor. And you're not even that hungry.
Member 2: Dude, the dog was on the ground for like one and a half seconds. You wiped it pretty well. And the floor looks clean to me.
Member 3: Are you going to eat that hot dog just so you can tell people that you ate a hot dog that fell on the floor at JFK, and lived?
Member 4: That would be a pretty funny story, if you lived.
So, I ate the hot dog and lived. The end.
