It may be five degrees above zero (-15 Celsius) but that’s not going to stop some of us, apparently, from strapping everything we own to a baby stroller (I’m sure there’s a baby under there somewhere) and coming downtown to do some Christmas shopping.
You may or may not know this, but Minneapolis is connected by skyways. Once you're downtown, it's "Weather? What weather?"
Wandering, comfortably, around the city's second-floor, glass-enclosed tunnels is what we’re all about.
And you know me, right? Why, I’m a fan of the people. Look at them, all bundled up in their spangle-y holiday sweatshirts and practical shoppin’ shoes! Aren’t they adorable?
Today, however, my love of the people is being tested; and while violence is something I leave to the professionals, I am thinking some thoughts you wouldn’t expect of one of mankind’s fans.
Let’s take that woman over there, for example, her and her four friends. Festive, ain’t they, all red and green and jolly? They are also walking abreast, the five of them, a chattering wall of solidly built folk who, having taken the day off work to come downtown and do their shopping, have forgotten that downtown Minneapolis is a thriving, working area of thrive-ily working people.
Ladies! I beg of you! Move to the right! See the people trying to get by, clutching bags of lunch, corporate security cards swinging from their necks? Let us through or face our high-heeled wrath!
I’m just kidding about the wrath. They all look like my Aunt Mare. Who would kick Aunt Mare?
I had lunch Thursday in Macy’s Sky Room. It has a salad bar I have dreams about. (Remind me to more fully explore my lame dream life.) I shouldn’t have done this. I shouldn’t have gone up to the 12th floor of Macy’s. I should’ve remembered last year…
Macy’s, in addition to the Salad Bar of Dreams, has their seasonal walk-through display: A Day In The Life Of An Elf. It’s all about the elves, baby: where they work, whether or not they prefer baths over showers, the elf underground nightlife and their struggle to afford customized countertops and cabinets. As you can imagine, this really draws the kids in; and if you’ve forgotten what it’s like to see a child throw themselves on the ground and scream “I hate you!” then you really need to get to Macy’s eighth floor in the next couple weeks.
The little darlings. They’re running up the escalators, running face-first into people's suit-encrusted bellies, sucking their fingers in bewilderment, laughing at the serious-faced people rushing toward elevators…
Ah. There it is.
My love of my fellow man is back.