I decided on a whim yesterday to take a good ol’ roadtrip to the booming metropolis of Minneapolis city. All of my roommates were gone, my homework surely wasn..’t going to get done, and all there was to eat in the kitchen was Rice-a-Roni and cold pizza. The time was just right.
Usually I don’t do these things on my own, but yesterday was an exception. Travel-companionless and practically clueless as to where I was going, the two MapQuest printouts sitting in my passenger seat were the only thing between me and ending up in Portsmouth, Maine…or worse, in the Atlantic. After just one wrong exit (a quick fix) I managed to make it to the cities, chillax and canoodle with a lovely lady friend. We spent the day lounging, touring, nibbling, walking, picnic-ing, IKEAing (now a verb), and conquering the area.
The most frightening part of the day came when I pulled up to a stoplight at a busy intersection. I accidentally rolled my car over the crosswalk, making the pedestrian jaunt across the street slightly more difficult. I’m from North Dakota, so naturally don’t fully understand crosswalks. Back in my day (and come to think of it, to THIS day) I always play a good ol..’ fashioned game of jaywalking when I want to get from side A to side B. This, however, doesn’t fly on Lyndale Avenue in Minneapolis, oh no.
A group of pedestrians went to cross the street as I sat at the light, and almost instantaneously a woman from the crowd got UP IN MY GRILL. I’m not talking a little shake of a finger saying, “‘Don’t do that…’ She was full out BITCHIN..’, as in threatening hand gestures, tossing her shoulders into it, all while screaming just loud enough so I could hear through my windshield, “SEE THIS?! IT’S A CROSSWALK! A FUCKING CROSSWALK.”
I mouthed back, “Sorry…” — and, I really was.
I thought that the North Dakota license plates on my car would let this one slide, but this woman might have tossed me clear to the Sculpture Garden had I been an inch more over the line. For real.
I made my way back to Moorhead, got slightly lost along the way, but all is well and I safely made it home to unload my glimmering pile of IKEA purchases and sleep in my sweetly sweet glorified bed.
What a trip!
PS. I’d like to give a shout-out to my Brother O for directing me off of County Road 15/ Bumfuck Nowhere. I’d probably be at the bottom of Long Lake if it weren’t for this brother.
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