24 July 2000
I keep finding myself in absurdist film scenes
I was walking home from work the other day, crossing a wide tree-lined boulevard kind of diagonally, when I saw a jogger running down one of the boulevard's medians towards the Mississippi River. Then I saw another jogger going in the same direction, this one on the sidewalk. A group of bicyclists rode in the bike lane, also going towards the river. Yet another jogger came along running in the same direction, crossing from one median to the other.
With all of this happening in the course of twenty seconds, I just began to laugh, right there in the middle of the street. A medieval peasant somehow dropped onto the scene that spread before me would surely think that all these people were running for their lives. It was as if aliens had invaded downtown Saint Paul, and I was witnessing a quiet exodus of people wearing spandex and jog bras.
The same kind of thing happened again this past Saturday, on my way to the Aveda Institute for a haircut: Due to Metro Transit's stunningly poorly planned bus routes, even after transferring twice I was left to walk ten blocks to the institute. I was alone on the sidewalk for most of the way, but that changed once I hit the last block between me and my destination.
Seemingly out of nowhere came an influx of lanky khaki-capris-clad Uptown blonds, all toting identical Kate Spade knock-off shoulder bags-- two from across the street, one from the parking lot on my right, another out of a car parked on the street. It was positively eerie the way they all strode with the same snotty earnestness towards the beckoning glass and stainless steel doors, pumping their sinewy fake-tanned arms in a valiant attempt not to be late for their 9:30am facials. I fully expected all of their cell phones to ring in unison.