Author: David

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’ve 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.

Jesse Ventura and Drag Shows

 

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.

Minneapolis

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.

Minnesota Some More

A good night’s sleep is a wonderful thing. You might say I found paradise. Or you might say I was looking for a good way to tie in that picture above…

 

What to do on a Sunday afternoon in Northfield MN? We opted for a trip down the road to bustling Faribault, where one can find a good breakfast buffet as well as scope out locations used in the movie “Grumpy Old Men”. Neither of us really knew about the “Grumpy Old Men” part until these bikers drove up next to us on the main street. Just as we were freaking out wondering what they wanted with us (urban paranoia, y’know…), they proceeded to put on their “Minnesota nice” and tell us about the historic ground on which we walked. Note to self: appearances can be deceiving.

We hit a cool thrift store/antique mall/flea market thing in an old Kresge store downtown, got shakes at the A&W (after admiring the “A&W Man” out front), and then headed back to Northfield to tour the Carleton campus. Carroll showed me the new computer labs where she works and we played with the T1 line for a while. What unrepentant nerds we have become…

 

Back in Minneapolis, Erik was still in Bob Vila mode, sanding cabinets, stripping hinges, and other harshly butch crap like that. I couldn’t stand it anymore, so we had sex on the couch for a while, and were interrupted (why yes, just at that pivotal moment) by Bil, who showed up to take me on a sleazy bar tour. Erik, being a tad hungover after a trying Halloween, as well as a tad sticky, opted for sleep.

Unfortunately, all the sleazy bars we tried to hit were closed, and we ended up at this strangely endearing Chinese restaurant and bar called the Red Dragon. I had a beer. Bil had some disturbing-looking orange thing in a fishbowl.

Back home, Erik hadn’t managed to get to sleep. We finished the “project” we’d started earlier. Then we both slept.

Hallowe’en in Northfield

Erik was planning to spend Halloween night seeing Xymox. Thus, it was decided that this would be a great night for me to hang out with Carroll in Northfield. I’ve never been much on Halloween or Xymox. All involved parties seemed relieved.

  

Actually, we spent the morning in the city, checking out some bookstores and thrift stores, and wishing we had time to visit Murray’s (home of the butterknife steak). Minneapolis and Saint Paul were both victimized pretty badly by urban renewal in the 60’s and 70’s, but a few old sights, like Murray’s, the incredible Foshay Tower, and Dayton’s Department Store can still be seen downtown.

 

Then it was off to the ‘burbs for some quality time at Target and at the most obscenely huge (and crowded) supermarket I’ve ever seen. I had a car. Carroll needed stuff. I have this strange obsession with grocery stores and have to visit a few everywhere I go. It worked. Trust me. For an afternoon of entertainment, there are few things better than a Minnesota supermarket. With a huge aisle full of cheese. And Count Chocula. And a cute produce clerk giving me the eye…

 

Back in Northfield, we had dinner at a cool resturant in the basement of an even cooler hotel (neither of whose names I can remember). What I do remember is pretty good food, French dressing (damned near impossible to find in California), and a waitron who wore jeans very well and who reassured us that yes, it was OK to smoke in the smoking section.

Afterwards, there was a quick tour of the stunningly safe (even on Halloween) streets and a stop by the local grocerteria in search for a very special product:

Frank’s Kraut Juice. Contains 100% kraut juice. Ingredients: cabbage juice and salt. Serving suggestion: “chill well and serve icy cold, or blend with equal parts of tomato juice and a squeeze of lemon”. It’s “just naturally good”. I wouldn’t know. I was afraid to try it. But there’s some in my kitchen right now. Maybe on New Year’s Eve…

 

I also stocked up on Count Chocula and Grape Pop-tarts (also impossible to find in California). We skipped the economy size chocolate pudding. Figured it might keep us awake.

Minneapolis and Northfield

 

Headed to Northfield in the afternoon to pick up Carroll and bring her back to Minneapolis. This was the first time we’d seen each other in seven or eight years, but (as usual) we were able to pick up as if no time at all had passed. You can do this with your best friends and not even be surpised by it. This is a good thing.

Back in the city, Carroll checked into the Marriott and did some shopping while I napped on her bed. And then drinking ensued…good old-fashioned hotel room drinking, with eight years worth of collected conversation and an incredible view. Afterward, we fought our way through the strange collection of corridors connecting the hotel, the skyway mall, and the parking garage (oops…I mean parking RAMP).

 

Dinner at The King and I, a surprisingly good Thai place. Afterward, a little Mastercard-financed Telnetting at the hotel kiosk (Carroll and I having become major nerds since last encounter) and home to bed.

 

Minneapolis

 

On my morning jaunt to the bank, I was a little alarmed that I couldn’t withdraw money from my checking account even though I should have had plenty of money (OK…”plenty” is too strong a word…) Fortunately, the situation rectified itself by evening. Not being able to get money when you’re almost 2000 miles from home is a bit disconcerting.

Good thing White castle is really cheap…

I managed to nap most of the day after not sleeping too well the night before. I was starting to get reacquainted with that Minnesota allergy thing. Jeez it was nasty. I was stuffy enough to begin with, but the mess increased exponentially every time I got near someone who’d been in contact with a cat in the past, say, three months or so. Of course any first-hand contact wth an actual cat might have proven catastrophic.

 

Got in touch with Carroll (one of my best friends since 1982) and Bil (an ex-boyfriend, sort of, and friend since 1994). Bil and I drove around a bit, and Carroll and I made plans for Friday.

Erik and I ventured out for a bit of drinking, first at a nice enough neighborhood bar in Loring Park, and then at the Minneapolis Eagle. Interesting place, the Eagle. It’s definitely the “nicest” leather bar I’ve ever seen, that in the sense that it looks like a yuppie sports bar: wood panelling, plush carpet, booths, etc. I couldn’t imagine anything nasty happening (or even being arranged) in this place.

Afterward, there was food at the late-night rock and roll Mexican place. Cute rivethead boy. Free Tootsie Rolls. Not bad…

Madison WI to Minneapolis MN

Odometer: 87313

Woke up. Visited a couple of thrift stores. Got gas at station near the freeway and wondered at the fact that (other than California and North Carolina), this part of Wisconsin has the odd distinction of being the only place I’ve spent time in each of the past three years.

Finally, I headed west through Eau Claire (more thrift stores) toward Minneapolis and Erik. Of course, I arrived right at rush hour. Minneapolis at rush hour is an ugly thing. Inadequate and badly designed freeways full of incompetent drivers produce really nasty headaches. And Minnesotans, despite being some of the nicest people you’d ever want to meet, are as a group the worst drivers I’ve ever encountered. Anywhere…

Finally, though I arrived at Erik’s office. It was good to see him for the first time since Vegas. He took me home, where I was immediately accosted by a psycho neighbor who wondered if I knew who’d smashed her jack-o-lanterns. Mind you she was not at all concerned that a perfect stranger was walking into the apartment unescorted, but she was pissed about her pumpkins.

Soon we were off to First Avenue to see Meat Beat Manifesto. I was very happy to find an escape in the form of the “annex” next door where the beer was cheaper and the music was better.

Afterward, it was off to the Saloon, and home. There was sex. There was sleep. Boy did I need sleep.

Milwaukee WI to Madison WI

Odometer: 87217

  

A mildly hungover moring in Milwaukee, cured by a big lunch at a great old-school Italian restaurant. This place was really incredible, with the kind of Italian food I grew up eating (in other words, none of your foofy “light trendy pasta of the month” bullshit…). The host was a classic “mama” of the sort who pinches your cheeks at the table and asks why you didn’t finish everything. Great.

 

In addition to a tour of the city, I met the neighbor kid, a very out 14-year-old queer who was about to give a class presentation on Truman Capote. I saw the “Laverne and Shirley” building. I saw what used to be the Schlitz brewery. We drove by some Milwaukee resident’s own personal version of the Cadillac Ranch. Pretty interesting place. Milwaukee. I should have given it more time.

It was almost 4:00 by the time I left. I was worn out from too little sleep and too much lasagne. It was starting to rain. I was offered crash space for the night, but I was determined to make it to Minneapolis, so I hit the road.

I got as far as Madison. That big indention in my butt was the result of kicking myself (hard) for being so stupid.

I didn’t even go out in Madison. I checked into the Motel 6 from hell (this place was REALLY bad), got dinner from the sub shop across the street and settled in for some strange voodoo incest movie on HBO, followed by a PBS documentary on the history of the ACLU. All in all, I guess it was a pretty good low-impact rest break. All in all, that’s a pretty good descrition of Madison in general.

Detroit MI to Milwaukee WI

Odometer: 86376

I made it out pretty early. Would have been even earlier, but there was cruising to be done at the motel. Seems the “high school/homecoming kid” we’d noticed earlier was (a) a couple of years older than originally pegged, and (b) cruising me really hard. Unfortunately, we never completely connected and we didn’t get to fuck to a background of Judge Judy. Pity…

 

Southern Michigan is not the most exciting place in the world. There’s Ann Arbor, the cute college town, Battle Creek, the depressed cereal town, and Kalamazoo, the town where I couldn’t stop singing that song about “I got a gal…”

I made it through pretty fast, ate somewhere, and all of a sudden I was in Indiana again. There was cheap gas. There were cheap cigarettes. And I made my way through Gary, the dowdy gateway to Chicagoland just a little too close to rush hour for comfort.

Logistics (OK…money…) kept me from spending any time at all in Chicago. I didn’t even drive through the city since I arrived so late in the afternoon. I flew through the far western suburbs on I-294 and didn’t stop ’til I was in Wisconsin.

Somewhere along the way, I realized I was running a day early, and I was hoping this wouldn’t screw up my chance to meet up with Dave in Milwaukee. Fortunately, it didn’t. We met up at the bookstore where he works part time and were soon joined by boyfriend Doug and roomie Davee. At this point, there were far too many Davids in one room. We survived.

 

I’m told Milwaukee has more queer bars per capita than any other city in the country. This is a pretty reasonable notion since Milwaukee is traditionally “Beer City USA”. Strange thing is, all of the bars we hit were tiny sleazy little corner bars. Of course, I liked this aspect of the place. There was This Is It, with the big booth an the strange man who wanted to escort me to the bathroom. At C’est La Vie, Dave and Doug won a lovely porn video playing pob-ball. At the Ballgame, there was wood panelling, strange statuary, and a security camera. And there was also this straight bar which I really loved. Cheap beer all around. I really loved that too…

 

And (again) it was really cool to meet people and instantly feel like old friends. We hung out. We drank beer. We watched demolition video. I was in awe of all the techno toys in the house. I was in awe of all the HOUSE in the house. After Detroit (where I lurked in a house being purchased for an obscenely low price) and Milwaukee, was becoming increasigly impatient with the walk-in closet I call home.