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Kavita Kumar, Star Tribune Staff Writer -- About the ongoing snafu with hot dogs at Aquatennial This is one of the
lesser-known Aquatennial stories: the annual hot-dog fiasco at Martin
Luther King Park. In 2000, the first
year of the Cub Foods Festival of Neighborhoods that is now held at 16
parks around Minneapolis, strong winds kept blowing out the charcoal grills.
In the second year, employees of the south Minneapolis park decided to
cook the hot dogs inside, but the kitchen became unbearably hot from all
the boiling water. So this year, they
thought they had a brilliant idea: set up broilers outside connected to
a long extension cord. But they didn't anticipate the surge protector
shorting out. By 6:30 p.m. Tuesday,
about a half-hour into the event, they were still weinerless. Actually,
they did have about 500 hot dogs - 500 cold hot dogs. And the crowd was
demanding dogs. The women working
at the hot-dog table were giving Brian Cornell, the park's director, "the
evil eye." Or so he said. "We're going
to have a big ol' gas grill next year," Cornell said. "But everything
else is going great! Ask me about the ice cream. It's cold." The festivals are
an attempt by Aquatennial organizers to bring the Minneapolis celebration
from downtown, where many events are held, to the neighborhoods, said
Lisa Dinndorf, who directs the annual gathering. Some were held Monday
and Tuesday, and more will take place Thursday and Friday. Chiquita Thomas and
her five children had arrived at Martin Luther King Park, which is at
40th St. and Nicollet Av. S., about a half-hour early. "When I got in
this line, there was not a hot dog in sight," she said, joking with
the hot-dog handlers. "We got here at 5:30 and the hot dogs did not
get here until what?" She consulted her friend's watch. "Seven-thirty."
For the record, it was more like 7:05. "Where are the
hamburgers?" asked Mitch Douglas, who coaches a football team at
the park and was waiting in line. After learning there
were only hot dogs, he asked, "Are they beef hot dogs or turkey beef?" The park staff gave
him a give-me-a-break, just-be-happy-there-are-any-hot-dogs-at-all look. Here's how it all
worked out: Cornell and his staff,
thinking quick on their feet, had moved the hot-dog operation back inside
to the steamy kitchen and frantically carted the dogs outside to the hungry
masses. During that time,
Thomas and her children listened to a children's choir from St. Paul,
had their faces painted with skulls and a heart with an arrow, smiled
big for a picture with Bugs Bunny, and went for a jump - many jumps -
in the Moonwalk. "So it worked
out," she said, promising to return next year. After all that, how
were the hot dogs? "They were good,"
she said, nodding her head. "It was worth it." Bags of potato chips
and empty ice cream cartons surrounded her as her children ran in all
directions. Meanwhile, in the
kitchen, Nicole Crass, the park's recreation coordinator who Tuesday night
was one of the head weiner chefs, used tongs to plop tender hot dogs from
the boiling vat into a pan. She discarded the broken ones and those that
"looked a little funny." Charles Hall, another
park employee, burst into the kitchen. "We need more franks!"
he announced.
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