Sweet Home... Minnesota?

I’m not keen about going back home. There was a reason I left and that reason was a good one. That place was toxic to me, that whole town was just bad. It wasn’t right for me, we didn’t suit each other. We still don’t suit each other. I’m built for big city life, and heavy traffic, street musicians! I’m not a four mile radius with one school and a Walmart person.

They told me I had to take a break though. ‘They’ being my family. I do need a break, but I really would prefer if that break were spent somewhere nice like the Bahamas or Italy, not the middle of nowhere in Minnesota.

I just got fired. My rent was also due and I couldn’t pay my half without the money from my job which I no longer had. There wasn’t anywhere else to go, and I made the mistake of telling my brother about it. Stupid Mikey for being all pushy and insistent.

It also doesn’t help that I’m completely unstable after my breakup. I really thought we were good, she didn’t even hint about it, but here I am, in the small seat of a landing plane. No girlfriend, no job, no ambition. Isn’t life dandy.

Minneapolis spreads out below me as we approach the ground and I watch the dark night sky get lighter as we reach the city lights. I don’t mind this city, at least it’s got a population. Downtown is fine. Dirty, disgusting, smoke filled, alcohol stained, and cramped: just the way I like it.

Time passes quickly and I barely realize we’ve landed, but then I hear the lady beside me moving around and I turn to see a whole bunch of people in the aisles. I’m in the window seat so I have to wait a while until I can move, and when I do, I grab my small carry on from the overhead than walk quickly out of there.

The airport is quiet, because it’s so late, but I’m not bothered by it considering I’m usually up this late. It’s not even midnight for god’s sake. I walk past a few stores that already have the metal chain fence covering them to signal that they’re closed. Other places are just settling down for the day, and I’m one of many people walking down the endless corridor. I watch the baggage claim signs streak past above me as I walk, but I don’t take any notice of them. I’m just following the people around me, because we’re all headed the same place.

Down one escalator and then another and then through another endless hallway, across an automated sidewalk and several twists and turns. I finally walk into an unnaturally large room. There’s at least 30 circular conveyor belts all lined up next to each other, and somehow I got lucky because the one with my plane’s bags is only the third one down.

Ten minutes and the bags finally start spitting out and into their little rotation. I watch a tired looking mom grab a bright pink one for her daughter and a few more, until mine comes swinging out quickly. I only have one, because she took everything else. I want to hate her, but I still love her. Love is shit.

I grab the dark black bag and make my way back through the entrance I came from to find the next escalator down, which takes me underneath the airport. The security people give me halfhearted waves as I walk through the doors, and make my way to the set of stairs and then down a second set of stairs into the large cavernous room. I don’t know what it is about this room, but it’s really comforting to me. It’s weird, because there’s no reason for it to be calming, but it is.

There’s two tunnels on either side of the wall for the incoming trains, and a large island like structure down the middle. The whole room is dark because the lights aren’t very strong, and we’re nowhere near the actual sun right now. There are a few other people around me, all waiting for the train with me, but I quickly buy my ticket and wait near the middle. The trains are always slower at this time of the night. Generally every 60 minutes rather than every 10. It comes along though, not too lengthy a wait, and I lazily get into the small little compartment.

Most of the seats are vacant because no one ever gets on around here except the people on this particular stop. Everyone gets off before now, because no one likes being on the train after a plane has just come in. The train runs through the two terminals, all day, and stops running the entire length of the blue line after midnight but I got here soon enough.

The train pushes off and Humphrey terminal flashes away behind me. A few jolts as we speed along the underground tunnel and I barely notice when we get outside because the sky is so dark. One stop, a person gets off, and I stay put. Two stops and a few people get off. Three stops and not a soul moves an inch. I still wonder what the purpose of this stop is, because no one ever uses it. Another stop and a few more people get off and one guy gets on, the poor bastard. Finally the train stops one last time at the mall.

The biggest mall in America. I like the Mall of America for some reason. It’s always busy and there’s always annoying tourists who seem alarmed by not one, but two food courts, and then there’s the ear splitting echoes of the theme park in the center, but it’s nice. The hub in the middle where they have concerts and events is great. I’ve never gotten to see a concert at the mall but its huge, and a lot of the time easy to sneak into. They can’t exactly prevent people from watching up on the other floors.

I don’t walk into the mall of course, because most, if not all the stores close at 9, except for the Hooters on the fourth floor.

I just get on the next bus that’s going where I need it to go, and I watch the city quietly fly away from me. I barely pay attention to what’s going on but I get off at my stop a few minutes later in the heart of suburbia. I don’t like or dislike suburbia to be frank, because it’s better than nowhere, but worse than somewhere. I know my way around this little town pretty well though, so I get off right next to the movie theater, then make my way past the Red Robin and down towards the more residential area.

An old friend of mine, who escaped the shithole we grew up in, agreed to sell me his old car, but he’s about a mile away from the nearest bus station so I make my way to his house. It’s not an overly nice car, older than me even, but he gave me a good price and I’m pretty sure I’ll be able to sell it before I leave which will hopefully be soon, but I need transport or I’ll literally die in this place out of pure boredom. I find my phone and dial his number.

“Hey Gerard, did you just get in?” he says, his name is Riley.

“I’m on my way to your house now, actually,” I answer, “I was dangerously close to missing the last train.”

“Oh, okay well I’ll see you soon, where are you?”

I tell him and I’m really close at this point just a few streets over so I hurry up so that I can rest my legs for a while.

“Hey man!” Riley says as I near him. I hadn’t planned on their being so many damn mosquitoes because I’d almost forgotten the worst thing about Minnesota summers. The state bird, but not really, mosquitoes.

He’s opened up his garage to unveil the 1979 Trans Am that was possibly a solid color at some point in its life but the paint is now far too chipped off or faded to tell.

“Here’s your shit of a car,” Riley says, and I nod in agreement.

“Well thanks anyway,” I say, accepting the keys from him.

“You sure you don’t want to stay the night man?” he asks. Riley is married with a kid and I honestly don’t want to be around someone who’s in love right now so I say no respectfully.

“You’ve got a long night ahead of you then. Monroe is at least a five hour drive.”

“I’ll manage, I like night better anyway.”

“Suit yourself,” Riley says with a shrug, and he looks just as annoyed by the mosquitoes as I am, “say hi to Mikey for me.”

“Will do,” I say and shake his hand because I’m kind of sweaty and I’m not much of a hugger anyway, “have a good night.”

I walk over to the car and get in quickly not wanting to stick around. I pull out of his garage without another word, and set off down the street.

Monroe here I come.