suburbia

I had to meet with an academic advisor at Hamline this morning. To make a long story short, I applied to two grad school programs to get a teaching license, and even though I knew that I was going to go to the other school and was sending in my intent of enrollment check later that day, I still went. The appointment didn’t last long, I was out of the office by 9:15. I headed north back to my suburb where the fabric store awaited me. It’s in a strip mall, and I approached the door to find a closed sign. They opened at 9:30. I looked at my watch – 9:20. I headed down the sidewalk unsure of where to spend 10 minutes...there was a Caribou Coffee a few stores down. Caribou is this chain that’s like Starbucks only more...local. They’re essentially the same though, it wouldn’t surprise me to find out that they’re owned by the same parent company, perhaps Time-Warner AOL Coffee Behemoth Inc. I saw people reading their newspapers inside, and I remembered I had a book in my bag. So I headed in and bought a cup of coffee, even though I really didn’t want or need coffee since my mom had so thoughtfully made some for me this morning, and it was waiting in a travel cup in the car. But I would feel bad going in by myself just to sit and not enjoy their obviously wonderful coffee, so I sat and sipped.

So there I was. Sitting on the cusp of suburbia and city, although you couldn’t really tell. The street across the parking lot is the border between Roseville and St. Paul, or maybe it’s the border between Roseville and Falcon Heights, or maybe it’s even the border between Falcon Heights and St. Paul. Hmmm. Well, whatever, St. Paul is just a hop away from here. There’s a man sitting inside his Jeep in the parking lot. Just sitting there. I’m not sure why, but he’s there for at least 20 minutes while I drink my coffee that I didn’t add enough sugar to and read my book. It’s a strange thing, people sitting in their cars in parking lots, alone. I’ve noticed this in suburban parks from time to time – people come to the parks on their lunch breaks, eat their lunch, and stare at the lake in front of them. I’ve never really understood this phenomenon. Maybe their office jobs really are that bleak, but don’t they want to go outside and be one with nature? Sorta? I mean, some do sit at the park tables, but a lot just stay inside their cars and hang out. When I was in high school, on senior skip day we went to one of those parks with a lake to play around. It was early May and my friend and I decided that was warm enough to go swimming. We wore suits to get into the water, since it was broad daylight, but once we were underwater we took them off. And there was a guy sitting in his car in the parking lot, watching the lake and consequently, us. He couldn’t see any nudity, but he probably could see me flinging my swimsuit top around to prove I wasn’t wearing it.

Back to the coffee shop. There’s also a lot of people on cell phones. It’s barely after 9 am. Who needs to talk at 9 am? One man is grumbling about god knows what. I look at my watch – the fabric store should be open by now. They don’t have what I need, I’m out in five minutes. I go to another sewing store, and they don’t open until 10. I look at my watch – 9:55. I go in anyway, since there’s about 7 people in there already. They don’t have what I want either so I head out.

I needed to mail some stuff at the post office, so I headed there next. On the way, there was a bank with a sign proclaiming, “ATM!” I liked that. We should include more exclamation points to make the mundane seem really exciting. Mailbox! Grocery Store! As I waited in line at the post office, a kid with a Roseville (my alma mater, if you can even use that term to mean “former high school”) letter jacket comes in. It says ’04 on the sleeve, and he looks rather pompous as he takes off his sunglasses and fills out his forms. Inside I am yelling at him, “Why aren’t you at school, punk? It’s a school day! Spring break is next week for you!” He’s probably got something set up so he doesn’t actually go to high school anymore, maybe he’s doing post-secondary. He has a National Honor Society patch on his jacket – oh yeah, I was in NHS too. We did nothing. I don’t know why this kid bothers me so much since I barely know him. When I walk out to my mom’s red minivan there’s a car parked next to mine with not one but TWO “My child is an honor student at Roseville Area Middle School” bumper stickers. Man, that’s the probably the car of the letter jacket kid. What a turd.

I go to another fabric store and get what I want. By this time I have to pee really bad, so I keep my usual fabric store wanderings to a minimum. Finally heading home, I pass the manmade snow hill next to the mall. It’s about 30 feet tall and at least that wide, just a giant mass of snow that’s gray from car exhaust. It looks like a feat of nature or physics or both, and I don’t know how anyone got the snow to pile that high. It’s an abominable snowmound, and it’s surrounded by a fence with signs that say, “caution – do not enter.” So it’s NOT a fully functional giant igloo, I guess. It’s too bad really, cause that thing could contain a few bedrooms and maybe a full sized bath.

originally written march 2004