When I was 18 years old I moved to a small town in Wisconsin not too far from Minneapolis, MN. I moved there to live with my "boyfriend" a guy I had met on the internet, spent a weekend with, and talked to on the phone daily, but still barely knew. It was an absolutely miserable time for both of us. We quickly grew to despise each other. We lasted maybe 6 months, first in Wisconsin, then in Chicago. When we split up I finally had a complete breakdown because our relationship was that bad. It took a year for me to get fully ok again.
Anyway, my plane trip to Minneapolis from Chicago was my first. It was also the first time I'd live anywhere more than an hour from my mother and all my best friends. I was going to live with someone who for all my juvenile fantasies regarding love was basically a stranger, whose last name I'm completely unable to recall 12 years later. I was scared, so I did what you do when you're 18 and scared, I retreated into fantasy and high hopes. My mother and Joey who I wrote about before drove me to the airport and put me on my plane. My mother hid her eyes behind sunglasses to hide her own scared and sadness. Joey later told me she reminded him of Jackie O after John died. Sad but resolute.
On the plane ride I listened to the same CD I had been listening to the whole time I was planning that terrifying ill fated trip. Retreat from the Sun by that dog. In particular the song "Minneapolis" which I kept trying to convince myself was my good blessing going forward. Forever this song will remind me of leaving Midway airport, and sitting on that plane watching the city I knew shrink away from the window.
On the upside, I did get to see Henry Rollins speak at the University of Minnesota. That was a fantastic experience.
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