I have been meaning for quite some time now to discuss one of the most unique attributes that makes living in the Twin Cities area interesting: the skyway system. Yes, both Minneapolis and St. Paul have their own skyway, and no, they don’t connect, and it would be one heck of a walk if they did! I worked in downtown St. Paul for almost exactly one year and got to know their skyway fairly well. The St. Paul skyway is bizarre with all variations of twists, unexpected turns, strange intersections, you name it. It took me quite some time to find my way around without a guide or a trail of bread crumbs.
I have since changed to working in downtown Minneapolis and I needed to basically start over, unlearn what I had learned, and then catch on to their own version of the skyway system. The two have little in common, Minneapolis’ version seeming more like a shopping mall with business after business lined up with mobs of shoppers and workers alike everywhere. St. Paul’s, on the other hand, seems more like something the 7 dwarves might have mistakenly mined in search of the mother lode, and to this day I’m still expecting to see Indiana Jones ride by in a mining car with Short Round by his side. I kid you not, if you get lost in the St. Paul skyway it’s completely possible that you might never be heard from again, or at the very least end up somewhere that you didn’t know existed. I had heard horror stories from some of the people that I used to work with in regard to their skyway journeys. Supposedly, somewhere in mid St. Paul, if you mistakenly take an elevator or two and exit on the incorrect floor, you’ll find yourself walking down a narrow, semi-dark hallway not unlike something out of the “Doom” video game. After walking for a decent amount of time, supposedly the hallway just ends…without any door or any reason to it. The lighting supposedly flickers and everything, and there’s also evidently a bizarre stench that defies words. Needless to say, I was always a bit paranoid whenever I had to get on/off a few elevators in unknown turf.
The Minneapolis skyway, however, has been an adventure unto itself, pretty much like no other. I park in a parking lot that’s several blocks away from work and therefore my daily walk in and out covers several blocks of both street and skyway area. The walk is almost always entertaining.
I have since discovered that I must give off some sort of look of authority or knowledge since people always seem to stop me, of all people, for directions. This has happened most of my life, to be honest, such as in department stores and such. It never ceases to astound me when a Wal-Mart customer walks up to me and asks, “Do you work here? I’m looking for…” It’s about that time that I start reevaluating my wardrobe. Does it really look like I’m wearing a blue vest with a smiley face on the pocket?! I kid you not, it’s happened so many times that I’ve lost count. I’ve even had people so convinced that I worked there even after I told them that I didn’t that they simply continue on with their question, saying something like, “Yeah, whatever. So, anyway, can you tell me where the
When it comes to directions, though, the irony is that I almost always give people the wrong instructions. I don’t do this on purpose, mind you. I think I’m basically so thrown off that someone is asking me for directions that I get nervous, start fumbling through my brain like a drunken Pomeranian, and then simply blurt out the first thing that comes to mind, without thinking it through, of course.
For example, one day a few months back a gentleman in a business suit approached me in a mild panic. “Do you know the skyway well?! How do I get to this building?!” he asked frantically while pointing at an address on a piece of paper. “I need to get there right away! I’m late!” If only he had been holding an old fashioned time piece in his hand, he could have posed as the white rabbit from Disney’s version of “Alice in Wonderland”. Now that I think of it there was a mild resemblance.
Sensing the urgency that was oozing from the man in the suit, naturally my mind started to fail me and I began in mid-sentence. “Oh, er, you should go that way, no this way…” returning the volley and sounding more like Tweedle Dee/Tweedle Dum.
I stopped and took a breath, just about the time the guy started showing a mild look of panic, thinking that perhaps I was more clueless than he. I wasn’t exactly sure where he was trying to go but I knew the addresses and streets nearby. In less than 5 seconds worth of time I formulated my game plan. “Okay, here’s what you want to do,” I said calmly, sounding in complete control and terribly knowledgeable. I quickly shared my thoughts on how he could get to his destination in the least amount of time. He thanked me graciously and made his way down the hallway confidently and appearing to feel lucky that he had bumped into someone with such knowledge.
Basically, I had advised him to exit the skyway and take the street level instead, thinking it would make it easier for him to find the necessary address listed on the outside of the building. The problem, though, was that as soon as he was out of sight I realized that I did indeed know the business and address he was looking for and it was only reachable via the skyway! Couple this with the fact that it was about 10 degrees outside at the time and, well, I started to panic and feel bad. For a second I thought that maybe I should run after him, this time looking more like the caterpillar in “Alice…”, once he sends her on her way, with all 10+ arms and legs waving in the air frantically, “Little girl! Wait! Come back! I have something to tell you!!” Yeah, you guessed it, I simply let it go and continued on my way to work. (Sigh) Perhaps I do deserve to one day end up in that St. Paul dead end corridor with the flickering light and the unmentionable stench.
Last week started interestingly. Again, I walk this route every single day to and from work. I was walking in my usual pace, cutting across a parking lot, and was about to merge onto the sidewalk just inches in front of three elderly people walking casually. As I merged, somehow I tripped over my own feet and almost literally fell onto the elderly people. I distinctly heard one of them utter an “oh my” as I did what I could to look cool in my best “I meant to do that” sort of attitude. Two blocks down, for an encore, I did it again. It was obviously going to be one of those weeks.
The true highlight of the Minneapolis skyway, though, are the many individuals that talk to themselves in a rather schizophrenic manner, basically about anything from conspiracy theories to current events. My personal favorite is the man with the blue bag, a guy in his early to mid 40’s who always has this large blue bag slung over his shoulder. I first encountered him late one evening after dining with some friends. My friends and I had parked our vehicles in parking lots on opposite sides of the restaurant and so I found myself nonchalantly walking alone in the skyway towards my parking garage. As I walked, I could see this guy (Mr. Blue Bag) rounding the corner off in the distance and walking in my general direction. I didn’t think anything of it since he looked harmless enough, or at least he did from a distance. We slowly inched our way closer to one another, with him still heading in my direction and not making any sounds or showing much sign of life. Instead, he looked like he might be deep in thought or perhaps contemplating why he preferred the blue bag over some other color that might better match his outfit. Still approaching and probably about 20 yards in front of me, he suddenly came to life, raised his arms up into the air, and started screaming at the top of his lungs, “I’ll kill him!! Aaarrrgh!!” After saying this, he immediately went back to showing no signs of life, not entirely unlike the Warner Bros. frog after signing “…hello my baby, hello my honey…grrrrribit…”
Upon hearing his outburst and particularly noting the “kill” part of it, I started to get nervous. However, we were walking in a narrow area where it would look really strange and obvious if I suddenly stopped and turned around, not to mention that he would now be behind me and headed in the same direction. No, it seemed best that I just continue going forward and act like I didn’t hear anything, which is what I did. 5 yards away…4…3…2…1…and then he passed me. For a moment I thought, whew, that was mildly scary! Just as I thought that, as luck would have it, the guy turned around and was now following only a few feet behind me! Help!!!
At this point I’m not sure what to do and so I do the only thing I can think of…speed up. Thankfully, I quickly pulled away from him and in a matter of a few minutes he’s out of sight, although I’m sure if anyone was watching they were probably wondering why I was power walking while looking like a scared chicken that’s mistakenly gotten out of the coop.
Two days later, while out walking on a break from work, I ran into the blue bag guy again, and this time he let out a strange yell as if he was in protest to some invisible force. I couldn’t help but wonder: is it me? Do I set this guy off or something? He seemed pretty mellow always until he caught sight of me. Luckily, we continued walking in opposite directions and I didn’t think much more of it although I couldn’t help but wonder what protest he was indeed protesting.
Once again feeling relieved to be away from the guy with the blue bag, from there I entered the government building and just as I passed the escalator, a large mob of, ironically, protestors were riding up it with picket signs, chanting something that I couldn’t make out, and getting angrier by the second. I continued to walk forward but worriedly looked behind me. From an onlooker’s point of view it probably looked like I was at the head of the mob since right behind me and still continuing to come up the escalator was a massive protest with some people yelling through bullhorns. Security was running over to where I was and it looked quite like the scene out of Charlie Chaplin’s “Modern Times” where he just happens to be waving a dropped piece of white linen after rounding a corner, unknowingly placing him at the very front of an anti-war protest. Chaplin’s character got mistakenly arrested shortly after; having seen this film, again, I tried to put as much distance between myself and the protestors as I could and as quickly as possible.
On a different day, I approached a guy wearing a long trench coat who was standing by himself in the middle of a parking structure. As I approached, his eyes darted around madly, and he whispered albeit loudly into his jacket as if talking to his pocket, “…and then everything will be perfect.” “Will it?” he answered himself. “Yes…ssssh…someone’s coming. Maybe he won’t notice us.” I walked past him as casually as I could, his eyes all the while squirrelly and darting around like mad but still trying to act nonchalant and such. As soon as I was about 20 feet away from him I heard him say, “Excellent. He didn’t notice us. Now, what I was saying was…”
Two days ago, again on my way into work, a gentleman holding a map of the area stopped me on the street corner. “Excuse me sir,” he said, “can you help me find the Guthrie Theater?” I had just been there only a few days prior and so I quickly pointed out where he was on the map, where the Guthrie was, and what the best route would be to get there. On the way out of work the very next day and at that same precise spot, a lady asked me if I knew where Hubert’s Bar and Grill was. I explained that I wasn’t positive but I was pretty sure of where it was located, and more or less pointed in the general vicinity of it. A few moments later, after getting in my car and driving towards my freeway entrance to head towards my house, I passed Hubert’s and low and behold there was the lady getting ready to cross the street towards it.
As I drove past in my car I smiled to myself and could hardly believe it. I somehow had managed to give two different people accurate directions within 2 days. Perhaps there’s hope for me yet. Of course, I thought all of this as I talked to my pocket.
