Masters of Munchies

It's nearing 2 a.m. on a Friday night and Kirkwood Ave. is dead. The exception is a group of three girls in tight jeans and sleeveless, black tops who despite their better judgment, run to Kilroy's Bar and Grill in 11-degree temperature. \nWhen the girls reach the door and quickly pull it open, the sound of Chingy's "Holidae In" combines with a roar of conversation and tumbles out into the street as if there's not enough room inside to hold all the noise. As the door closes, Kirkwood is again quiet, and a man perched on a metal stool behind a hot dog stand smiles.\nMatt Berry, who to most of his customers is simply the "hot dog man," has been working behind a hot dog stand for eight cold winters. Perservering both Bloomington's frigid temperatures and the intoxicated customers who are spit out of Kirkwood's many bars, Berry is a refreshing reminder that happiness is in the eye of the beholder.\n"I really like getting to meet so many interesting people, and while some will be boisterous and aggressive, you're talking maybe one in 20," Berry says. \nIndeed, Berry's late hours and proximity to Kilroy's, Nick's English Hut and the Upstairs Pub stir up an often "interesting" group of people who Berry considers his customers. From Amish men to half-nude students, not much can surprise him anymore. \n"Just last week I saw a group of guys come out the front door of Kilroy's without pants or undergarments on and then run towards the Sample Gates," Berry says, laughing.\nWhile Berry's customers can so often be unpredictable, so too can the weather. Protected only by a small umbrella, Berry has spent every Wednesday through Saturday for the last eight years selling hot dogs from 11:30 p.m. to 3:30 a.m. in any condition including rain, snow or sleet. He says the most difficult part of the job is not selling his "quintessential chili-cheese dog," but trying to stay warm having only a shoe-box size heating unit.\n"Occasionally I'll get screwed on a hot dog and it will come out of my pocket, but undoubtedly the hardest part is the weather," Berry says. \nBerry has come to accept that bad weather comes with being a hot dog vendor. Fortunately, he finds his job fulfilling, and it provides enough income for life's essentials. \n"It pays for a comfortable, modest lifestyle," Berry says. \nHis attitude towards life is evident in the pride he takes making his hot dogs. He shows patience towards slurring customers who bumble through their wallets, counting $2.25 in coins. Senior Kim Kessinger has been going to Berry's stand exclusively for nearly four years -- not just for the product, but for the service. \n"It's not just about getting a convenient hot dog after a long night at the bars, it's about the friendly service that comes with it," Kessinger says. "Not to mention he has the best hot dog in Bloomington." \nWhat many people don't know is that Berry's hot dogs are no different from the hot dogs sold in front of Kilroy's Sports Bar or the Bluebird Nightclub because the ingredients come from the same place -- Gordon Food Service Marketplace. While Berry is the main man outside Kilroy's on Kirkwood, Larry Kanserski and Leslie Burke run the show outside of Kilory's Sports and the Bluebird respectively. Wednesday through Saturday, the three of them meet at a warehouse at 11:30 p.m., hook up their carts together and pull them behind a pickup truck to their respective locations.\n"We shut down our carts around 3:30 a.m. and then have to scrub down our dishes, so I usually don't get home until 4:45 a.m.," Berry says.\nThe late hours, along with some obnoxiously-intoxicated customers, can make for a long night. Although the vendors admit that most people are pretty casual, some can get a little out of hand. A six-year veteran, Kanserski will be the first to admit he's had some frustrating altercations with his customers.\n"There's a lot of attitude that can be pushed across in the simple way of requesting something," he says. "Even offensive attitude like I am a servant or a peasant."\nAlthough his customers might assume that Kanserski merely sells hot dogs, the hot dog stand is only one chapter out of his life. Due to his current occupation, some might overlook his service in the National Guard, degree in historical preservation and internship at Valley Fords National Park.\n"I was standing at Washington's headquarters in historical garb," he says. "It would have worked out into a job if Congress hadn't cut back funding. It affected national parks, state parks, local parks -- anything that was recreationally orientated."\nKanserski went from working in the nation's capitol to living off the hungry stomachs of drunken college students. Although he seems a little bitter about the way his life was redirected by a simple congressional decision, he says that working as a hot dog vendor isn't as bad as it may seem. \n"It's kept me fed," he says. "But it's not going to be a career. In fact this is probably the last winter you'll see me out here."\nOutside of the Bluebird Thursday through Saturday, Leslie Burke runs her part of the business with a friendly smile and an optimistic attitude. While she admits that Kanserski gets a lot of the obnoxious drunks, she says her customers are the fuel to her fire, thawing her out in the freezing temperatures in the late night.\n"I'm convinced this spot at the Bluebird is the prime spot," she says. "People come here to hear a good band and dance, but I think at the other bars people try to see how smashed they can get."\nShe sounds convincing, but every hot dog stand has to have some kind of drama. \n"The other night there was a big brawl," she says. "People were crashing into the cart, falling over and hitting their heads into it."\nBurke also recalls a soldier who visited the bar while on leave. In the midst of a scuffle his tags got ripped off, and in an instant, chaos was created.\n"It was really an intense time," she says. "After his tags got ripped off it was not an issue of anything that had happened before -- he just wanted his tags back. That was the biggest fight I had seen, but surprisingly the cops didn't come."\nWhile all hot dog vendors have their stories, Burke says the most she's learned from her experiences is to relax and treat people with courtesy. And although some people don't show the same respect back, she stands strong and pays no mind to rude comments.\n"I try to just hear it all, rather than react to it," she says. "I know if there's a drunk guy coming at me that they're influenced by the alcohol."\nBerry has a similar view on bitter drunks with attitude, wanting to take their problems out on him. In fact his perspective is warming, even in the numbingly cold February night. \n"In life you'll always deal with someone who's obnoxious," he says. "If you cannot do well with that, you're not going to do well with life"