The other night the dear wife and I flew into Minneapolis on our way back to Iowa after having spent Christmas back in the 'hood. On a side note, does Marin County count as the 'hood? Hmm.
Oh, sorry. I was going somewhere with this. Let's see... Oh yeah. Here we go.
So we landed in the middle of a big snowstorm, and decided that rather than risk becoming a side item on the local weather page the following day, we would wait until morning to drive the three hours back to good ol' Ioway.
Despite my internal clock remaining on Pacific time, I awoke early to savor the beautiful winter day. There is nothing quite like the silence and sense of renewal at dawn after a heavy snowfall. The perfect time for a quiet walk in the woods, or maybe a hot cup of tea and the New York Times. I put on my coat and walked outside to savor a glorious December morning.
My quiet reverie was abruptly halted by a rather enthusiastic snowplow driver, who cleary thought that the only thing better than savoring an untrammeled expanse of brilliant white snow was the thrill of 20 tons of Detroit pig iron careening through it.
Seeing how we were stuck in the sprawling outer suburbs of an unfamiliar city, and unwilling to consider yet the prospect of several hours on snow-covered Midwestern interstate highways, the dear wife and I needed to think of something to do.
The obvious answer? IKEA! Who doesn't like well-designed, reasonably-priced Scandinavian home goods of questionable durability?
So we went on down the road a spell, each of us holding our breath at the prospect of the insanity of IKEA during after-Christmas sales. And it was closed. I looked down at my watch. Nine in the morning. So much for the heartiness of the Norse.
And then I saw it, looming above us...
The more than 500 stores on four vertigo-inspiring floors...
The parking for over 20,000 cars...
The 4.2 million square feet of good old American commercial excess...
That's right, the Mall of America. The mecca of American consumerism. A single building so immense, it contains an indoor amusement park in the center.
We arrived an hour before any of the stores opened, but you would have no idea by the look of the place. It was already filled with throngs of people. Packs of people in jogging suits walking endless laps. Young people sipping coffee. Little kids waiting desperately for the rides to open.
And the space. The interior volume was enough to make me a little dizzy if I looked upward. Now I understand why some scuba divers freak out when they realize how much water is above them. Luckily we didn't stay long, or I think I would have started really wigging out.
We were soon back outside, where snow had begun to fall once again. Walking back to the car, I wondered if there were any quiet woods nearby.
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