The year was 2003. My son was 16. We seemed to be drifting apart in our relationship. For his whole life, I had handed down stories of our family,  friendships, my military days, and my work. He had a fondness of chili dogs and chili cheese fries, and I had told him several times of the great chili at DerWienerschnitzel. We needed some time alone, to talk, to bond. I had thought about taking an overnight camping and hiking trip. We had done that a few times over the years, with good results. With the availability of the internet, I had found that there were two Wienerschnitzels within a one day drive of us. Baton Rouge, Louisianna and Champaign, Illinois. I had thought all summer long about taking the journey, originally planning to stay overnight once we arrived. I waited too late. The summer ended, and we had not made the trip. Labor day weekend was coming up, so I told Matt we would leave Sunday night, and go get a hot dog. I was off work the Friday before Labor Day, but thought he had classes. That morning, I took a call from my father. He wanted the whole family to get together for Labor day. I told him we would. I had to tell my son that we weren't going to Wienerschnitzel on Monday. It was 9:00 Friday morning, and the I found out he didn't have any classes that day. We packed a cooler with soft drinks, bought film for the camera, and ran a couple of errands for my wife. At 10:00 AM, September 5, 2003, Matt and I left Pell City, Alabama, in my 2001 Nissan Frontier. She was loaded with a cooler of Pepsi, a CD case full of blues and classic rock, and 2 men hungry for chili dogs. We took turns driving across Alabama on I-59/ I-20, through Mississippi, and into Louisianna. We almost stopped for lunch. Neither of us had eaten breakfast, and we were starving. Eating a lunch, other than Weinerschnitzel chili dogs, would have ruined the experience. So we let our stomachs grumble and turned up the stereo playing the B.B. King CD.

 The Interstate turned sharply south in Louisianna, and we headed to Baton Rouge. I had done a MapQuest search for the best directions, and they were great. We hit rush hour traffic in Baton Rouge, which slowed our vehicle, but not our determination. At 4:45 pm we saw it. It was on the left. Much to my surprise and glee, it was one of the old "A" frame buildings. This Wienerschnitzel is directly off of the campus of LSU, and the LSU band was practicing for the next days ball game in the field behind the resteraunt. It was like being greeted by the band as we arrived from our 435 mile trek.

 I had downloaded coupons from www.Wienerschnitzel.com before leaving, so the menu was set. Each of us ordered 2 chili cheese dogs (I special ordered mine with swiss cheese and onions), a chili cheese burger, fries, and a coke. The employees probably thought we were crazy as we explained that we had just driven 7 hours for those dogs. The employees were great, but they watched us cautiously in case they needed help from people that wear white coats. A policeman sat in the parking lot the entire time we were there, and I am not sure if that was circumstance or smart thinking on the staffs part. They gave us each the current toy from a kids prize meal, but no discounts on the food other than the coupon. My son had another chili cheese dog, and I added a couple more to my bulging belly. We called my daughter and wife while we ate to tell them about our adventure. We enjoyed those chili dogs sitting under the umbrellas on the patio, just like I had 20 years before, with the LSU band playing in the background. The cars passing by were oblivious to the treat that I'm sure they take for granted, having a Wienerschnitzel in their own neighborhood.

 I tried in vane to get the staff to sell me a bag of Wienerschnitzel's chili mix. The manager had left on an errand and the employees were reluctant to let the secret formula out. I understood that, and asked if I could buy bowls of chili. I thought they sold chili in bowls out west, but evidently not in Louisianna. I had the fore sight to bring an extra cooler and a large plastic bowl and lid. I asked them how much an extra scoop of chili for a hot dog was. 33 cents. I guess they knew I was certifiable when I told them I wanted 50 scoops of chili in cups. I poured the chili into the plastic bowl and placed it in the cooler. I asked the policeman (I told you he was there the entire time) for the fastest route back to the Interstate, and when across the street to buy ice for the cooler.

 At that point we headed back to Alabama. 7 hours of father and son time later we arrived back in the driveway. It was 12:30 AM on the 6th. Matt and I poured our chili into small plastic cups, covered them with plastic wrap, and placed them in the freezer. We went to bed that night a closer father and son, and satisfied with the memory of those great chili dogs.

 We used our contriband chili sparingly, but it only lasted a few months. Whenever we would make chili dogs my wife would laugh at us for our "$100 hot dog lunch". It cost more than that, but we won't tell her. Every time she comments on the chili, she says "I have to admit, that's good chili".