JMD in Brazil

Location: Minneapolis, MN
Duration: 3 days
Population: 3,495,176
Nickname: Twin Cities (along w/ St. Paul), City of Lakes

Minneapolis is home to retail-giant, Target. After staying here, I think Target is actually a pretty good metaphor for the city: It's pleasant, it's full of white people, it's got everything you need, it's easy to stay longer than you anticipated and, by the time you finally leave, you're definitely ready to go.

My first mission was to navigate the endless escalators of MSP airport in order to find my rental car place. I do and cancel my reservation. Fargo was in my sights. I spent a good amount of time researching the city for this book and here was the closest I had ever come. The problem was the nine hour round trip drive in front of me (all in one day) and I would have to do it on three hours of red-eye sleep.

Instead, I find myself walking down Hennepin Avenue with the all-too-familiar feeling of shame that comes with a full belly of Five Guys. It's just over a mile to my downtown hotel. I don't mind. I walk across some bicycle bridge and down into Loring Park.

My first day back in the States is always a good day. A peaceful one. I like just hearing other people talk one table over. It doesn't have to be about anything interesting. I pass a museum promoting a pop art exhibit and an "artist-designed mini golf" course. Were I a more cultured man, I would probably stop in. It's good to be home.

I don't care what local culinary fare you have, when I return to the States, this is the first stop.

If a city is it's people, then Minneapolis, in a word, will always be just plain "nice." From the girl at the hotel coffee shop to the bouncer in front of the nightclub, person after person I encountered was just as Garrison Keillor promised. They were unexpectedly much more attractive than I imagined (an apology to any Minnesotan friends reading this for assuming you guys wouldn't be) and everyone looked downright healthy.

Loring Park.

There were more people begging for change than I expected to find in a city that, on first glance, didn't have any blemishes. One guy was actually wearing a collared shirt and had a better haircut than I do. Another man (this one much worse off) held a cardboard sign reading, "homeless," only the last two letters were the lightning-bolt-looking Nazi SS.

I spent more time thinking about this than I should and I narrowed it down to three theories. Either he was a) racist/antisemitic, b) not racist, just unaware of the reference he was making, or c) not necessarily racist, but definitely pandering to any passing racist motorists. We'll never know.

Walking down Nicollet Mall (it's a street, not a shopping mall), I saw one of the most unusual things I've ever seen. On the other side of the crosswalk, coming my direction, was a man with one arm and no lower body. His torso stopped at the waist and there was nothing below it except for the skateboard he used to get around (propelled by his one arm).

Traffic on the two lane street flowed between us. I waited for the cue from the crossing light. Not this guy. He rolled out into the middle of the road. A white SUV came toward him and didn't slow down. He was about eye-level with its license plate, so I doubt they even saw him. With his one muscular arm he knuckled the pavement and propelled himself past it. Everything within inches.

"That was some crazy shit!" a guy nearby exclaimed to him. And they both laughed.

"That's the IDS Building...Tallest skyscraper in the Midwest after the, uh, Sears in Chicago...Or the John Hancock Building. Whatever. You ever been to Minneapolis?"

-Fargo

It was a pretty Minnesota-ey experience overall. I heard former Governor Jesse Ventura speak. I stood on the banks of the Mississippi River at Nicollet Island. I set off a security alarm walking into Target Headquarters, thinking it was a regular Target store. The security guard was, to no surprise, nice about it. He gave me directions a few blocks down.

Walking the clean streets of downtown Minneapolis, 80 degrees and hours of extra sunlight after dinner, it's hard to imagine a more pristine city. But this ain't reality and I and everyone else knows it. You can look around and see that Winter is both a fresh memory and a soon-to-be-arriving guest.

Twenty feet above downtown are dozens of glass-enclosed pedestrian bridges that connect this building to that one. Like a second, indoor set of sidewalks. It's easy to travel several blocks without ever stepping outside.

Each bridge I looked up at was empty. Hollow. Its people were here, beside me, on the sidewalk, sitting at patio tables in the shade, laughing with their good-looking friends. They know it's summer and it's short. They're going to make it count.

Former Governor Jesse Ventura.

The Mississippi River and downtown pictured from Nicollet Island.

It's been well over a decade since I last had a pet. It's been over 20 years since I had a dog.

Brida (pronounced "bree-da") isn't my pet, but it's the closest I've had to one since then. She's the always-sad looking dog that lives at the gas stations by my house. I'm pretty much in love.

At the end of our road, two gas stations share the same block. Brida splits her time between them. She spends her days slowly wandering around the cars and customers like they're not even there. The staffs feed her, clothe her when its cold (for Brazil) and provide her with a bed. Brida loves sleeping under the covers.

Despite all this love, Brida has seen better days. She's pretty old and walks with a big limp. She lays around a lot. While her happiest face is still sad, some days she looks down right ill. I don't know how long Brida has left. I visit her just about every day and whenever that comes to an end, well, it's going to hurt.

Here are some photos of the sad sensation known as Brida: