Minneapolis. Cold country, my family called it. I called it home for four years, and the better part of a fifth.
I went to school in Minnesota, but not at the U of M, where most people assume when I say that. Instead I went to a small private school downtown, a few nondescript buildings that covered a couple of blocks and became my first home away from home. My first Big Move.
I remember not knowing at all what to expect, and being worried about how I would make friends. I was enthralled with the adventure, but nervous about how it would all play out.
As is often the case, I needn’t have worried. I made friends quickly… tight ones, the kind you make when you’re all in the same situation, and in desperate need for community. I landed on a major, found a part time job, and decided the snow wasn’t so bad. I got used to my wet hair freezing into a crunchy mess on the way to class, and learned which bus lines go where you want, and which will strand you in the middle of nowhere at the last stop of the night.
After college I got my first TV job in Minneapolis, at the same place where I interned my senior year. The city was different though, after all my friends had moved on, and the place where I had so many great memories seemed brand new again, back to a sea of strangers, with no forced orientation or constant comfort of communal living. I got lonely, and didn’t stay long.
This week a chance work trip will take me back. Back to Elliot Park and Hennepin Avenue. Back to skyways and skylines and Prince’s club downtown. I bet the quarter bus route is up to a couple of bucks, and I would be surprised if Jitters, the downtown coffee shop is still around, packed with students “studying” and enjoying the all night shenanigans. For old time’s sake, I’d love to go to the airport at dark, park under the route the planes pass as they head for the runway, and think about the 18-year-old me, sitting there bundled up in my dad’s flannel with my new friends and my wild dreams, striking out on my first adventure.
I don’t remember much about what your portion of the Cold Country looked like, but I do remember that walkway over the road and that the school was right next to the Park. What I don’t remember anything about would be the “stranded in the middle of nowhere the last stop of the night”.
Probably better that way ): Were you in that area at all this time?
That only happened once. Cherise and I got on the wrong bus by accident, and it took us to the end of the line and stopped. We had to call a cab to take us back to school. This week I was near the college but not walking distance, so I didn’t get to go to campus.
Love this!