Exhausted from the night before, we drove around aimlessly until I accidentally ended up in Dinkytown and was able to show him the progression of the new Gophers stadium. Safely in a corner of Minneapolis that I should know relatively well, I managed to stop paying attention for the very critical lane change that keeps you on 35W on the way home. Don't worry, I then was able to show him the glory that is Open Arms of Minnesota, a lovely non-profit in a not-so-lovely part of town. Not every day can you see a renovated firehouse only steps away from crack dealers and meth labs. The eventual ride home, which I did not eff up, was filled with a lot of "just don't make fun of me"s. I'm pretty sure he still thinks Minnesota is full of a bunch of weirdos strangely attached to a metropolitan area that offers little more than a Brothers and a food court Subway, but you can't win em all.
The real, true embarrassment of the weekend was when I had to go back to Dinkytown later that night and got off on the wrong exit. As in, an exit that was NOT opposite the exact entrance ramp I had taken earlier in the day. To his credit, Mike did not kick me out of the driver's seat and shun me to the trunk. I was patiently directed back to the freeway and the proper exit. On both his fourth visit to Minnesota, and the near twenty-three year anniversary of my being born in this great state. Awesome. And not embarrassing in the LEAST.
1 comments:
One day non-natives will come to understand....
Until then, they must be spoken to like toddlers.
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