Oh what a walk can do…
I got home from work in a real foul mood, as was evidenced in the last post, and I should clarify that this room still smells like barf and that’s pretty gross. Actually, right now it smells like vomit and Nag Champa because I lit a stick of incense before I left to take the dog for a walk thinking it would improve the atmosphere while we were gone, but as it turns out it only added a fragrant aroma to an otherwise horrible scent. It happens.
I digress. The walk. To the river and back. Easy. Except for the part where some guy was effectively dragging his overweight pit bull behind, or alongside, or however the whole thing was situated in relationship to his bike while he was dragging his blue tennis shoe along the pavement to slow the whole rolling ball of flaming garbage to a more respectable pace. It was definitely something and it could only be one-upped by the family that was casually cruising through the neighborhood in their clapped-out late model mini van with their pit bull standing with its front legs on the dashboard and it’s face essentially pressed against the front window. The humanity outdoors tonight was magic.
That was the first three blocks.
Things calmed down for a bit after that.
As the walk continued, University Avenue was crossed and then the railroad tracks. The neighborhood was silent. No cars. No people. This was likely the case because the temperature here currently is well below freezing and everyone is staying inside because of an executive order signed by the Governor of this great state. It made for a pleasant stroll either way and eventually led to the halfway point, the parking lot behind the Sample Room and the sunset.
The river below was moving quickly and the wind coming in from the north was brisk, but the gentle pink and orange and yellow hues above the ever-majestic Northern Metals pile of disgusting was worth every step and while the dog wouldn’t stop pulling on the leash, the setting ball of fire served as a kind reminder that tomorrow is a new day. It was something to put in my pocket.
A cigarette was smoked and laughs were had…and then we saw her. Or them. Or whomever. Across the parking lot, back in the direction of the house, walked a human of some kind and they weren’t wearing any pants and while I’m not ever going to tell anyone what they can and cannot do, there seems to be a general lack of critical thinking in the air these days and I’m concerned about the welfare of the working class in some of the neighborhoods in Minneapolis. It’s fucking cold outside and while pants are not a foolproof way to stay warm, they do serve as a real goddamn good place to start. Sheesh.
Regardless, none of the aforementioned things are the ticket to rewriting what was an otherwise awful day of human operation for me. The big winner, the golden ticket as it was, was going into the local bodega to grab some smokes before heading back to the campsite. Until just recently there has been a fully functioning tobacco store directly adjacent to this fine purveyor of foil bagged chips and sugary sodas. Today, the tobacco store was boarded up and closed because they hadn’t qualified as essential in this stunning time of Coronavirus. The dice were rolled and one of us went in to inquire as to whether or not a couple of packs of cigarettes could be acquired in lieu of purchasing chips and soda and that’s when something miraculous happened.
Upon being asked about the cigarettes, the young man behind the counter eyeballed the curious and said, “Yeah. Just go through that door in the back.”
That door. That wonderful doorway to the holy land.
When Dan finally came out, he explained what had happened to me and I couldn’t resist. I simply couldn’t resist…so I went in.
At the counter I asked for cigarettes. I was eyeballed similarly and sent to the door. I obliged and when I walked through I saw a dimly lit space that looked exactly like the tobacco store that I had just recently come to know and love. I walked in. Behind the counter was the same lovely woman who had helped me just days ago. Without asking she grabbed what she knew I wanted and we went through the same process we had before. I paid, thanked her and walked out through the same door through which I had entered. I was smiling. Things had shifted. My day had turned around. It was incredible and it was all because of the mesmerizing tenacity of the local tobacconist. What a fucking day. A real party.