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Dateline Minneapolis

“Ladies and gentlemen, we have been informed that the runways are closed here at Logan.” My heart sank as I watched the de-icing teams spray the plane. At this moment I thought I would be stuck for another night in Boston, and instead, I escaped. The plane, after an almost two hour delay, departed for Chicago, from which I caught the next flight to Minneapolis. Arriving in Minnesota, I realized that the taste of winter weather I enjoyed in Boston had become a full-course meal. Snow was piled onto the streets, and the temperatures were a chilly 25F. I had wondered what I had got myself into.
My Super Shuttle driver, one of countless Ethiopian immigrants to the Twin Cities I conjectured had the hardest time finding Daria’s place. The only problem with this is that it was only a few steps away from the West Bank of the University of Minnesota campus. I was impressed however, to see very nice student housing in an otherwise decent neighborhood. I was also very excited to see the law school across the street. However, I didn’t appreciate fully the temperature drop.
For the next morning, Daria asked his roommate, the 28 year old computer science grad student from Hungary, George to show me around while he was at class. Daria, being a med student, doesn’t exactly lack for something to do. The arctic landscape that passes for the University of Minnesota proved intriguing nonetheless. The student union had been recently redone, and the bookstore made the tony interior of the Duke union look even less attractive. The snow crunched under my feet as George showed me the “horseshoe”, the Armory, the Rec Center, and the McNamara Alumni Gateway. While the campus was nice, I was severely unprepared to handle the frigid temperatures. We could only walk a few yards without ducking into a building to take advantage of the free heating.
George left me at the law school to look around, which I did. Though it wasn’t quite as frilly Duke’s interiors, the school still looked like an excellent place if one could manage the snow. As I coursed through the huge law library, Daria called to say that he was home and I needed to let him into his building. At this point I really couldn’t see myself at Mondale Hall.
Later that night however, Daria invited a cabal of his friends to dinner and drinks at two separate locations of course. While Daria was using the opportunity to do reconnaissance on the opposite sex, I had the chance to meet his friends and discuss how they felt about things. I met Molly, who was going to do a summer job in Miami. I met Manish, the homosexual Indian who had graduated from UCLA a year before Daria and I. There was Shaquita, the sassy and part-black driver and Shawna, a platonic pal. I ordered walleye from the menu and Molly was shocked to hear this was the first time that Thomas had eaten the fish. She didn’t quite realize I was from Los Angeles and shortly after this, as we enjoyed the heat and warmth of the Loring Pasta Company, did I get needled about California. Of Daria’s ten friends, each had at least a partial desire to work in the Golden State. To me, this was very telling. I had two weeks before I could return to California, for good, if I chose. Nevertheless, the people were extremely friendly and all good-natured.
Then came Chino Latino. It started out as a harmless trip to one of Uptown’s trendiest locales. It ended with several people sitting upstairs at the bar staring down at the med schools students gyrating for the chance to do “body shots”. There was moaning, shouting, undulating…well…I suppose I can’t really divulge all that. Shaquita drove the three of us home to the Grand Marc. We all fell asleep pretty quickly, with George already being asleep.
Saturday began with a trip to the Mall of America, Minnesota greatest sucking sound. Daria was recovering for a hangover, so he decided we should go late in the afternoon, catch a movie, and eat dinner at the Mall. George offered to show me into Downtown Minneapolis with its skyways and other allures. However, the temperature had dropped to below freezing and snow blanketed the banks of the Mississippi. I reluctantly decided not to go and subject my neck and face to the punishment. With my new beanie and gloves, only the exposed part of my head found the climate unfriendly. I decided instead to give Darrah, my friend at Berkeley’s school of Optometry, a call while watching the Kentucky-Florida basketball game on television.
Soon enough it was time to traipse through the snow to the bus stop outside the Grand Marc. From there, we connected to another bus at the downtown Nicollet Mall and took the Express to the Mall. All things considered, it was pretty painless. Shivering in the almost sub-zero air was not that pleasurable, to be sure. The Mall surprised me too. It was not that upscale, despite having a theme park inside among other things. It had the feel of an outlet mall in very posh surrounding. Daria led us to a food court with his favorite place for food. It was supposed to be Japanese, but I got the feeling that Jenn would object to it having that title even more than she objected to Tsunami. I was still hungry after the gyoza and shrimp so I ate a hot dog during the movie.
Daria had sought to see this film called “Old School” in which case the breakup of Luke Wilson’s marriage (on a premise sort of like “Sliding Doors”) causes him to move into a house near the fictional Harrison University in New York. Naturally this was the same movie that bribed UCLA big money to film during class and take large portions of the campus hostage with huge sets. There had even been a time during shooting that I had passed Vince Vaughn on the quad at UCLA playing Frisbee in between takes.
The film turned out to be a great improvement, and the wait for the bus home was pretty short. We had to enjoy a great scenic tour of the airport, the VA hospital and Fort Snelling. Around 10:30pm, all of us staggered back to the apartment. I fell asleep not sure who had won the UCLA-Washington basketball game. It turns out the Bruins had won, and consequently qualified for the 8th seed in the PAC-10 tournament next week. The students at Pauley responded by storming the court. I could only laugh.

posted by Thomas at 9:42 PM 0 comments