Road Trips : Road Trip 98 : Minneapolis 3
Monday 2 November 1998 (Minneapolis MN)
Bob Vila remained at home today while Bil and I toured the wilds of Minneapolis and Saint Paul, missing no White Castle, neon motel, nor thrift store which crossed our path. This was one of those mindless driving days, with no particular destination in mind. I love those.
We hit the ghost mall in Saint Paul (not as ghostly as it was a few years back, apparently). We visited this strange surplus store with funny signs. Bil bought used toys at the thrift store, so we went to K-mart for batteries. And then we ventured to the State Fair. Of course there was no fair in progress, so the crowds were a bit sparse, but the gopher was there in all his (her?) glory.
Monday night brought crappy pizza and Goth/Industrial Night at the Saloon. The Saloon was better. The Minneapolis version of this scene is not nearly as annoying as the versions on the coasts. These people actually seem to have senses of humor. And personalities. And lives. I even got hit on. Sort of.
More late food at the rock and roll Mexican place.
Tuesday 3 November 1998 (Minneapolis MN)
Dealt with some banking emergencies and last-minute thrift store runs in the morning and a few purchases in the early afternoon. Spent most of the afternoon and evening gazing at the four very purple chairs (my three favorites pictured above) which were delivered to Erik in the morning.
In the evening, Erik and I did the Saint Paul bar tour, including Trikks (stupid name but an OK place) and the Town House (unbelievably frightening place, especially since we were the only two customers). Election returns were coming in. Pro-wrestler Jesse Ventura was slowly but surely being elected governor. I felt like I was in the middle of a Simpsons episode.
I understand in some ways why many voters, particularly younger ones, opted for Jesse. He's a complete outsider, and provided a unique opportunity to make a statement about the stagnant two-party system. A vote for Jesse Ventura was essentially a "fuck you" to the Democratic and Republican parties, a means of expressing dissatisfaction with their collective moral bankruptcy and lack of new ideas. But the fact remains that he's basically an idiot. It will be interesting to see what happens now.
Anyway, we finished off the night at the always sedate Eagle and the Brass Rail. I am reminded that I don't really miss drag shows.
Wednesday 4 November 1998 (Minneapolis MN - Kansas City
MO)
Odometer: 88061
Random "pro" thoughts on leaving Minneapolis:
- It's nice parking directly in front of your house.
- Rents are cheap, people are nice, and there are neighborhoods with a pedestrian scale.
- Surprisingly good local newspapers, which cover planning and urban social/economic issues well. Of course ANYTHING would look good after six years of the Chronicle and Examiner, perhaps the worst pair of "big city" newspapers in America.
And the "con" list:
- Minnesotans are horrible drivers (among the worst I'e ever seen) and the freeways are badly designed too.
- It's damn cold.
- The queer bars suck, and they close at 1 (which might actually be a GOOD thing).
- Not a decent burrito to be found in the entire city.
I managed to leave at a fairly reasonable hour and just in time to miss the predicted snowfall. I'm heading south, I thought, so it will surely get warmer. Yeah...right... By the time I hit the Iowa state line at noon, it was five degrees colder than in Minneapolis. But I was moving to the hot polka beat of 920AM in Faribault, so I was OK.
Iowa was no less boring from north to south than from east to west. I got through it as fast as the ridiculously low speed limit (and the proliferation of roadkill) would allow. Missouri was a welcome sight.
Until I got to Kansas City.
I had a great time in Kansas City last year. History did not repeat itself. I was never able to get in touch with the friend in whose house I was to stay. It's my own fault for not getting in touch by phone first. I'm an idiot and I hated not being able to catch up with old friends. I decided to get a room. Two hours and about 50 miles later, I found a really skanky one which smelled bad. I was not in a good mood by this point.
When I went out for food, I realized I was in the absolute suburb from hell. There was no visible fast food. All the roads went to nowhere. I finally found a Burger King. Inside, five teenage stud wannabes were in line, talking on their cell phones as they ordered. One of them paid with a check. I now know what hell looks like.
Going out again was out of the question.