Lacey guest writes today:
This is Lacey here. I am the other intern here at the wardrobe department and I have a story about my experience here at Plimoth that just needs to be shared.
To begin, I am very much a girl of the south. My mother is from the northwest, but she’s the oddball there. My dad is from Deep South Texas and my brother and I were born in Georgia. I then lived in Heidelberg, Germany for my formative years, where the culture is of course not American, but that southern American hospitality still reigned in my home. When we moved back to the US it was again to the south, though most southerners would argue that Northern Virginia is not, in fact, the south. Needless to say coming here to Plimoth is the first time I have ever been in New England.
Working here as an intern is more than I had ever dreamed of, even after I turned in the application earlier this year. That being said, I am finding it incredibly hard to live on air and sunshine, money definitely has a certain appeal. (we were able to offer Emily and Lacey internships with housing but without stipends – jmh) When some of the other girls and I were offered a job working the Plimoth Cinema in the evenings and on weekends we snatched at the opportunity. Its not a lot of money but it makes my mother’s frugal child feel a little bit better about her bank account.
Now we move to the meat of the story. On Saturdays the Cinema has a concession stand with popcorn, candy and hot dogs so the moviegoers can make an event of it. This past Saturday I was to work the concession stand by myself for the first time. When the time came to sell the first hot dog, which by the way are two for three dollars, I came upon a dilemma. The hot dog buns were like nothing I had ever seen before. To me they looked something like an excessively fat slice of bread that had been shortened about three inches. 
I held it like one would a normal, to me, hot dog bun and tried to find the slice. Failing to find the slice I looked all over the places I would have thought to find it. Now those of you northerners reading this who have never seen what constitutes a normal hot dog bun for the rest of us, its something like a mini sub roll and opens on the side of the bun. Never finding the slice on those first buns, I mangled the poor man’s hot dog buns to the dissatisfaction of my poor confused brain.
Three dogs later I realized these buns did in fact have a slice, and that it was in the top of the bun. I was mortified that I had missed this. Later, between the two showings I mentioned it to my boss who commented that when she had gone to college somewhere outside of New England, she had not known what to do with the sub roll buns and had her mother keep her supplied in hot dog buns.
Jill again. When Lacey told me this story, I decided to get some pictures of the buns in question. A thousand words and all. I just happened to have some New England hot dog rolls at home. My daughter prefers them because they’re more stable on the plate. I checked the grocery store yesterday, and the ones like this with the slice on the top say “frankfurter buns” and the ones Lacey knows, with the slice on the side, are called “hot dog buns.” There’s no end to what you can learn from the Embroiderers’ Story. Thank you for all the comments, and I’ll be posting answers as well as three more posts from Tricia over the next days. I am having BIG computer troubles at home so if you’re waiting for an answer from me on something – Carolyn and Robbin – I’ll try calling you. Thanks for your patience. ETA: that is my horrifically messy kitchen table around the edges of those pictures. The housecleaning fairies are on vacation this week.
