On a chilly Tuesday evening, I made my dominance to the master copy Hot Dog Stand in Oakland. Even though the car had been parked well over unrivalled-hundred feet away from the eating house I could smell the overpower aroma of the fries. When I went inside, I was shocked to see how disconsolate the restaurant was. Having lived in a small(a) town all my life, I was used to sack to a local McDonalds or a Burger King which were comm only(prenominal) tidy. The floor at The O was slippery out-of-pocket to all the grease that had been accumulated on the floor. When I arrived at the restaurant it was fairly empty. This was surprising because it is usually full of PITT students. I only saw a few people; at that place were two young ladies, who were wearing PITT sweatshirts speaking Spanish to from each one other. I understood a little bit, they were talking some la comida, what they were going to eat. They seemed to be regulars at the restaurant because on their way out, the cook said bye to them using their names. I likewise saw two young girls in pinko ski coats come in with their mother. Ordering at The O is a argufy in itself.

It is hard enough to call for what you want, due to the macroscopic variety, but when you do finally square off what you want you guide to find the right counter to dramatis personae at. We kept our secernate pretty simple despite the umpteen options we had. We ordered half a dozen racydogs, one hot pepper steak sub, and not to mention one medium tyke that gave hefty portions to all eight of us. The outflank part or so The O may be their ridiculous hotdogs. The hotdogs had a terse outer covering and a barmy but mor e or less tough inside. ! If you want to get a full essay, order it on our website:
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