Fortunately… no.
I can officially say that Chicago is basically the same as Minneapolis. There’s just more of it.
When you get out of a car and submit yourself to a public transportation system, you see a different aspect of life.
Last week I was in Twin Cities, and I got around using only busses and light rail. I liked what I saw: I found interesting neighborhoods and interesting people. In a different timeline, this would have been my life.
There are many tall buildings in the central business districts of Minneapolis and St Paul, but I honestly have no idea what goes on inside of them. Whatever work they have going on, they have no need of my skills. Every job I ever had in the Twin Cities, I needed to get to in a car.
There are two light rail services in the Twin Cities: The Green Line and the Blue Line. They are smooth, fast, and arrive approximately every 10 minutes. They start early in the morning and run into the evening. They are a substantial improvement over the bus service.
On Friday afternoon I took the Green Line south to the Mall of America. There was nothing I needed there. I hadn’t been to that mall in eight years and I just wanted to see it again. The Mall basically looks the same. The people at the Mall basically look the same.
On Saturday I took the Blue Line east into St Paul. The area between the University of Minnesota and the capital at St Paul is called the “Midway. Area” I always used to say that Minneapolis and St Paul aren’t really Twin Cities, there is a vast wasteland between them. Journeying to St Paul by car from western Hennepin County is a slog. You put your foot down, burn a lot of gasoline and hope it will eventually be over.
The view from light rail is totally different. I saw a thriving and lively neighborhood. University Avenue is lined with shops and restaurants based on a variety of ethnicities and personal interests. I wanted to take the time to go in every shop and eat at every restaurant. Forget the Mall of America. University Avenue is the true mall of America.
SCP 3207: mall unstuck in time. About as dangerous as midwestern food is spicy. Avoid at all costs if you don’t want your brain to feel like it’s been filled with discount cotton balls.
(Also an excellent description of how I feel whenever I visit. The kids love it, but only for Camp Snoopy and the Lego store.)
A Tale of Two Cities
Taking the Blue Line to St Paul was the first stage of my journey across the border into Hudson, Wisconsin. After arriving at the end of the line, in front of Union Depot, I would then hail a ride from Lyft. There I would meet my mother at Perkins at 1:00 for lunch.
After I got to St Paul, I checked Lyft to find out what to expect for my ride into Hudson. There were many rides available, it would only take about 20 minutes and cost around $25. What was I worried about?
I had about an hour to kill, so I walked around the brick buildings of Lower Town, St Paul. “Lower Town” is the older part of St Paul, down by the Mississippi River. The buildings are brick. Bright sunlight filled the streets. Dark shadows filled in the alleys.
I went into the Lost Fox for a cup of coffee. It was a mess, filled with a mess of people. They had great coffee. As I mentioned at the time, this is the first decent cappuccino I found in the Twin Cities.
The time had come to be driven into Wisconsin. So I put in my request.
The ride went smoothly and only took 20 minutes, as Lyft predicted. This left me with approximately 30 to kill.
I found myself surrounded by the kind of vast hellscape that only cars can create. An endless sea of asphalt that spread in every direction from horizon to horizon. The cold wind blew strongly. Every type of fast food restaurant, cellular phone store, nail emporium, and big-box store was contained within. It was all neatly organized and perfect.
Here I was, 20 minutes away from St Paul, but it felt like a totally different world.
At the Perkins, the background was nothing but what is commonly referred to as “country music.” In other words: Men which whiney voices singing about the true meaning of “sacrifice” and/or their truck.
A few of people wished me a “happy Easter.”
As I mentioned before, I was 20 minutes away from St Paul, but in my mind it felt hundreds of miles away. As if I had teleported into the middle of Missouri or Arkansas.
After lunch was over it was time to hail a ride back to St Paul. Getting to Hudson had been easy. Getting out was not.
Lyft at first told me no one was available. I began to wonder how I would get out of there. 20 miles means 20,000 paces. That would take a while. After a few tries, a driver was found — he was 23 minutes away, and the ride would cost twice as much as the ride in. He was coming all the way from Stillwater.
I had to hang around the back of the Perkins trying to look non-threatening. I’m sure if I was black they would have called the cops. I began to imagine they might call the cops. I could see it all happening — the police would drive up right before my ride arrived. I could show them my phone to prove why I was waiting. Showing your unlocked phone to the police is not smart, and would they let me take the trip back to St Paul anyway?
I was so happy to get back to Lower Town and the comfort of the Blue Line.
Heading west from Union Depot, one of the first stops is the State Capitol. Because this was April 19th, a cheerful group of protesters got onboard. All ages and all genders. They had signs that said things like “No Kings!” and “A country is not made great by hate.”
God bless public transportation.
Today I had a David Letterman moment.
This is when something unusual would occur in Letterman’s life, and he would elaborately tell the story to Paul for about five minutes. Then he would use the key moment of the story as a catchphrase for the rest of the night.
This is what I witnessed. You have to imagine how Dave would have told it.
As I turned the corner onto Stone Street, I passed a man apparently having a FaceTime or Zoom-type conversation with someone. He was just an average guy who looked like he had an average job. Maybe the kind of guy who repairs boilers in building basements.
Anyway, he was walking down the sidewalk, holding the phone up very close to his face. His gaze was fixed on the screen so intently his eyes were crossed. He was smiling broadly.
And as I passed he said loudly, “Hell-oooo, Monkey! Hell-oooo, Monkey!”
