Truly, You Belong With Us In The Clouds

My first experience with the Twin cities Skyway system occurred when I was twelve years old.

I'm from Texas, and was up in Minneapolis visiting my relatives for Christmas. Grandpa Nelson vowed on the 27th to show my apathetic, small-town hillbilly ass the sights and sounds of the big city.

Grandpa was larger than life, like Robin Williams before he quit doing cocaine. Grandpa was as big as hell, this man's man with a cowboy hat, shit-eating grin, snakeskin boots, tight blue jeans, and a bolo tie with diamond mock "spurs." He called every waitress and cashier "Miss America" and apparently everyone in the world knew his name. "James!," they would exclaim excitedly and Jim would never fail to have a witty reply. Although Jim may have left his heart in Texas, he was as Minnesotan as they came. After fighting the Nazi's with a machine gun in World War II, he returned to the Land of 10,000 Lakes to marry the girl he met in the service and studied radio broadcasting under the GI bill. He contributed to the Baby Boom (mom and Alpha) and landed a job doing comedy sketches for WCCO. James was now retired, but he kept busy cheering on the Timber Wolves and the Twins, holding season tickets for both teams. Leona (grandma) and Jim wintered in Harlingen, TX teaching English to border kids.

Anyway, I dutifully bundled up and piled into his brown station wagon and soon was transported into what I was convinced was an alternate dimension. I saw these frightening bubble-like tubes connecting all of the businesses downtown and these strange creatures shopping with only one layer of clothes on, EVEN THOUGH IT WAS TWENTY BELOW ZERO! Grandpa rode up the escalators with me and I was amazed at the ingenuity of the undertaking. It was warm enough in these catacombs that I could take my coat, ear muffs, mittens, scarf, and second sweatshirt off! "What a great idea!," I thought. It made sense, they still wanted to have a life even though they were unfortunately still residing in tundra. I mean, who wants an art gallery if the gale-force winds knock over all the paintings as soon as you open the door?

But I still couldn't grasp why they were here in the first place. Only lichens and moose could grow here, it appeared. Did the settlers just get lazy on the way to California and just decided to lie to their fellow explorers?

Settler 1: Are you POSITIVE this is San Diego? I thought it was sunnier than this.
Settler 2: (Coughs loudly) Yeah, sure it is.

We looked at now-kitschy Kirby Puckett memorabilia. He explained why the snow was black. He sneaked me into a sports bar and got me a bowl of salted peanuts while he sipped a beer and shot the shit with the bartender. He walked so fast he wore ME out. Keep in mind he was around seventy five or so at the time.

James is dead now, his liver giving out on him after a lifetime of hard drinking. Leona held on for a little while longer, losing her memory towards the end. I live in their house now as a caretaker until the relatives can sell it. I temp downtown and, like most people, use the skyways to run simple errands and catch a bit to eat on my breaks. It's weird to think that I've become one of the aliens I was so cared of not ten years ago. House-to-car-to-garage-to-skyway-to-office-to-skyway-to-garage-to-car-to-home is our mantra. A city of people who live in an environment so hospitable that they spend three fourths of the year inside, only coming outside to furiously smoke and duck back inside again. It sounds like a line from "Blade Runner," and maybe it is.