St. Paul Skyways

It happens time and again. I find myself walking 4 blocks out of my way so I can take the skyways instead of brave the elements. Understand now, these are St. Paul skyways. They're not like Minneapolis skyways where block after developed block allow one to pretty much zoom along to one's destination. The unique landscape of downtown St. Paul, with its mix of old and older buildings (and a few new ones) and parking lots leaves big holes to be circled in the skyway system.

These are industrial skyways through burly working buildings - buildings not intended to be violated by entry on the upper floors. One goes up and down stairs, through new sliding doors and old fire doors, across industrial strength carpeting and worn linoleum, down skyways of glass lined with shops and skyways of slapped up wallboard where one feels the building only grudgingly grants you passage. These skyways will get you from here to there, but you have to work for it.

Only the raw weather of St. Paul could drive a populace into these skyways.

Downtown St. Paul sits in a basin below the twin colossi of The Cathedral of St. Paul and The Minnesota State Capitol. Despite their functions no hot winds roll down the hills from these edifices to warm our chilled exteriors, only the swift biting winds of a Minnesota winter. Unlike Minneapolis one feels the Mississippi River flowing through this town, adding its own wind tunnel effect along the bluffs. And the streets of St. Paul are hilly and old and uneven, lined by uneven curbs or paved with those slick red bricks only a moron would use in Minnesota. To walk the streets of St. Paul in the winter is to know one will eventually land on one's arse in an icy pothole.

Perhaps those who designed the St. Paul skyways recognized this hellish environment and so knew they needn't spend one penny extra on the skyways. They knew that, given the weather of St. Paul, if you build it, they will, indeed, come. Even if they have to walk four blocks extra just to stay inside.