Minneapolis, aka Caucasia
I had a conference this past weekend in Minneapolis. Sadly, I really didn't have time to go to it, so I did a 24-hour turnaround jet-setter rockstar trip to the Great Wild North. Here is my itinerary.
Friday 2ish: Get to ATL. Perplexed because my flight is departing from the international gate. Awesome, because the International gate has the best food and stores typically, but weird. I mean, where is Minneapolis, really? Airport is filled with UGA fans flying to Gainesville. Some barking is exchanged with strangers. Happy. SUCK IT, GATORS!
Friday 3ish: My superweird departure gate is on the far end of the International wing, and it's filled with weird vegetable structures. I couldn't get a shot of the flying corn cob (Faulkner anxiety! Faulkner anxiety!) but here's the carrot with the rotating lima bean that lurked next to me, watching me reading my brain candy. It was unnerving. I only wished that it had been more 7ft.-Muppet-Carrot-who-sang-Gilbert-and-Sullivan-with-Gilda-Radner, but it wasn't.Friday 5ish (central time): Baggage claim. I cannot stop staring at my fellow passengers. It's like being in Scandinavia, only less ethnic. There is not a person of color anywhere to be seen. And everyone looks like they're related. I don't feel so bad about my south Georgia inbreeding anymore. I mean, sure, my hometown is the same as my name, but what's that compared to this? Creepy. I've never felt exotic looking before.
Friday 6ish: Decide to blow off academic party and order burger and beer from room service. Watch Chronicles of Riddick on tv (um . . . wow? What a weird film. Yet I couldn't stop watching it. I missed the first bit, so I have no idea what those guys who were Necromancers or something were all about, but . . . wow. What a weird movie.) Fell asleep before The Fifth Element came on. Sadness.
Saturday 6:30 am: Wake up, shower, put on suit. Toodle down to restaurant to eat before giving my talk. Overly friendly wait staff with strange accents. Eat oatmeal. Might be in Fargo. Hard to say. It's also cold outside. Chic Italian suit was a poor choice. Should have gone with huskier Italian suit.
Saturday 9 am: Defend graduate student from mean questions from the audience. Grad student likes random play that I've written about, so I go to bat for her. Humiliate meanie professor in charming Southern fashion. Satisfied that karma is set for the rest of the weekend, so everyone else in need of my help is screwed.
Saturday 11 am: Give my paper, which is both thoughtful and hilarious (or so I thought), to stony faced audience. I am not among my people. They are either bored, unimpressed, or pod people. Make silent promise to never do this conference again. I am rarely the smartest person in the room, but I can give a paper in a non-boring manner. Tough crowd. Fuck 'em.
Saturday 2 pm: Airport again. Delighted to be going home. Though I'd grab an earlier flight, but it does not exist. Seeking television or bar with UGA/FL game. Never find it. Only occasional texts from friends featuring barking and exclamation points lets me know everything's ok. WOOF!!! SUCK IT, FLORIDA!!!
Saturday 4 pm: Midwesterners frighten me. Maybe I am really in another country. Like Canada. Or Iceland. I know people from the Midwest, but this is something different. The women are all really big and loud. The men are big and taciturn. I am trying to read the New Yorker without anyone knowing. Please let us board the plane soon.
Saturday 9 pm (beloved Eastern time): Home again.
posted by Megarita @ 9:11 AM
11 Comments:
But I thought that Prince was from Minneapolis. I'd really feel exotic there.
I'll have to go sometime.
Midwesterner here. Not big. Not taciturn.
But, I'm "rust belt" material...you don't find peeps like us in Minneapolis.
My parents lived in the twin cities for 5 years. My mother--who is six inches shorter and a couple shades darker than I am--still talks about being the smallest, most ethnic person in the entire state.
Nonetheless, I was conceived there, and so as out of place as I am when I go back, I am fond of it.
MA--So did I! I kept looking for him everywhere. I only found a classic hip-hop radio station. It was all totally old school and truly awesome.
Chimm--Yeah, I didn't really mean to lump all midwesterners in that way. It was just the overwhelming sense of Minneapolis. Overwhelming. Next time I'll go for longer than 24 hours and do a more serious sociological study.
JB--Weird, huh? They seemed a large people.
I hope they weren't flying to Gainesville. Wouldn't've been able to find the stadium there...
66--UGH. You're totally right. The Cocktail Party is in Jacksonville, not The Swamp. Tail between legs.
It's all Florida, anyway. Like it matters. :)
My all-time favorite midwestern airport moment came the day I flew east at Christmas from San Diego after being unemployed for a couple of months at the beach. I had a layover in Detroit Rock City. Suffice to say, I stood out like the biggest sore thumb in the world. I too, am a Northern European mutt. But I likely had the darkest skin in the entire airport. Vitamin D baby!
True enough. As a [redacted so you don't hate me] fan, I agree Voluntarily to that.
And as a bonus, I got you to say "cocktail" without even trying.
It's like being in Scandinavia, only less ethnic. I think I just developed a girl-crush on you because of this line. Hilarious.
Strange, my experience there this last summer was different. People were freakishly kind and helpful (totally a foreign concept to someone who lived in LA), but they didn't quite fit your description. Then again, I've never been to that airport.
Claven--Yes, I too once tanned. Those were good days.
66--I sensed your regional unpleasantness. but my shame spiral over the damn FL thing is too tight. Can't mock the Vols.
Megan--Mutual admiration society, hon!
I know you can't.
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