In 1989, I made a move to California and found myself working at Wienerschnitzel, the home of the iconic chili cheese dog and the ever-popular corn dog. Though I eventually transitioned to a job at Pacific Bell, the allure of those fast-paced lunch shifts and the camaraderie of my coworkers lured me back to Wienerschnitzel, where I worked during my lunch breaks – partly for the free chili cheese dogs, I’ll admit.

One fateful afternoon, a red-headed woman named Donna strolled in, craving a chili cheese dog. We exchanged flirtatious banter, despite my then-relationship status. Donna became a regular, and by the time I was single again, our flirtation had intensified. On Valentine’s Day, she came in with friends, and I seized the moment by presenting her with a rose, hoping to ask her out. The plan didn’t go as smoothly as I’d envisioned, and she left. But twenty minutes later, she was back, parking her Firebird—complete with a V8 engine and T-tops—right in front of the restaurant.

Donna confidently walked in, handed me a piece of paper with her phone number, and left me utterly smitten. The fact that the number was scribbled on Star Trek stationery only added to her charm. What young man wouldn’t fall for a statuesque redhead with a penchant for muscle cars and sci-fi memorabilia?

Fast forward thirty years, and here we are, celebrating our twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. All because one woman had a hankering for a chili cheese dog. No matter where life took us, we always made sure to live near a Wienerschnitzel. Our anniversary tradition is a visit to this beloved fast-food joint, a ritual I eagerly anticipate each year.

Time has flown by, yet Donna and I are still very much in love. We have a beautiful twenty-three-year-old daughter, and yes, I still have that phone number on Star Trek stationery. It’s framed in my home office, my most treasured possession, a constant reminder of how one chili cheese dog changed everything.