I was recently reading a novel where the characters traveled to Bath, England…which made me think of the time that I went there.
I was 19 or 20 (which clearly makes me a late bloomer…you’re welcome, mom), and my sorority sisters and I were on a weekend away from our studies in London. While in Bath, we decided to see as much of the city as we could. The Royal Crescent was certainly on our list of “musts” as were the Roman baths.
In order to ingest as much of the city as we could, we decided to take one of the cheesy Hop On, Hop Off buses. Sidenote – if you only have a day in a big foreign city, these are really not the worst way to see the sites!
We started by the beach, where day visitors rented personal striped cabanas (ADORABLE), toured through the town, then ended up on a hillside for the whole view of Bath. The views were gorgeous and our bus driver/tour guide was VERY informative up on that hillside. He talked our ears off, instructing us to look down the hill at all the famous sites.
It didn’t take long before we heard, “woooooo woooooo woooooo woooooo.” Over the bus driver’s microphone, it was hard to determine where the sound was coming from.
My sorority sisters and I glanced at each other and then back at the sites.
More “woooooo woooooo woooooos” and we then tried to figure out if the sound was coming from the first floor of the bus.
It didn’t take long before another tourist screamed. We then saw her pointing up the hill.
While our generous bus driver was directing our attention down the hill, it turns out there was quite a commotion going on up the hill.
When we finally saw what was causing all the “woos,” we realized it was a man in a sweater vest…and nothing else.
He was doing an invisible hula hoop with his hands on his hips…with his bratworst swinging round and around…smiling and yelling “woooooo woooooo woooooo.”
The bus full of tourists immediately started snapping pics and ditched the view of Bath. And in a hot second, the bus engine turned on and back down the hill we went.
Upon arrival at our final destination, the driver profusely apologized and told us that the wiener man was a disgruntled ex-employee of Hop On, Hop Off. He knew the route and performed his show every afternoon with a big ass smile on his face.
To this day, I still can’t figure out why they didn’t just change the tour route…and I certainly can’t remove the image from my mind.
And that concludes the story of the first time I saw a wiener.
PS – It’s no wonder that the company name Hop On, Hop Off has always felt dirty to me.
PPS – Wieners are funny.
PPSS – I can’t believe I dedicated my 900th post to wieners.