I am having a wonderful time here in gorgeously temperate Minnesota. The flight couldn’t have been better and it took less than an hour from St. Louis. It was a clear night and I had window seat so flying north from Lambert I was able to watch the Missouri and Mississippi rivers wind their way through patches of population as the sun set and the drink cart approached. I had taken a cab from my house to the metro station, and then it was light rail into the airport where I got my e ticket and cleared security in under ten minutes. I bonded with the bartender next to my gate and wolfed a French Dip sandwich before departure. In flight I read Tom Robbins and had my first gin and sierra mist courtesy of the pocket flask. Not bad. The Minneapolis airport reminds me of the substation on the way to the moon in Kubric’s 2001. There are automated trams that connect the various gates to baggage claim and a calm British voice directs you to your proper destination. It’s a very modern airport, like Atlanta’s. I found my brother easily and a few fellow travelers were amused by our greeting as of all my siblings we are the most physically similar. There is no doubt that we are brothers meeting and could really be fraternal twins were it not for the fourteen odd years which separate our births.

The tiki spirit has awoken in Phil and he has displayed for me an admirable collection of fine and faded Hawaiian shirts worthy of our Polynesian childhood. Thusly clad in clashing apparel we meandered back to St. Paul with me at the wheel of my new – there ain’t nothing Mini about me – van. It handles exactly like the truck Mary and I drove back from California. It is as Jerry rigged as all things tend to be and fits like a glove. There are dents and rattles and the power steering fluid cap has been replaced by duct tape and one of my niece Sarah’s hair ties, but as a hunk of metal goes it’s well worth the asking price. If you recall my psychic reading way back at the Gay Pride Festival, I was told that I would take two important trips this fall and I puzzled over what the second trip would be. This is it.

I’ll have to gloss the rest as I’ve just been told that steaks will be on in ten.

Last night was Hot Tub, Physics, and Philosophy with beer & Mudslides (what is it with my brothers and mudslide fixings?) and several hours of Teen Aqua Force on DVD with my nieces and nephews. Morning brought coffee with Grace and the gaggle of Martin’s slumber party friends (I slept most of the night on the living room floor with the D&D crew of Steve and Lance). I was shown many hysterical websites which I will soon provide links to here, the comic genius of which may dwarf all my previous links.

Phil and I went to the University of Minnesota (as I may be attending here next fall) to tour and spent several hours on a quality wander which included the alumni center and the museum – which is free on Saturdays offered up a swath of Picaso and brethren, an impressive collection. The Museum overlooks a relatively narrow Mississippi and has campus facilities on each shore, divided from one another like the Casino River Boats of St. Louis, but the competition is departmental rather than strictly financial. Surprisingly, it’s a much larger university than Wash U and has exerted a gravitational pull. Phil suggested that I register to vote while I am here so I can get in state in the fall. Not a bad idea, but if I get an assistantship tuition would possibly be waved anyway. That’s the goal.

We stopped in at my nephew Martin’s work, a pool supply store, to convince him to take tomorrow off so we can all go to the Renaissance Festival together. I’ve never been to a ren fair so that should be fun. We returned to the house to snorkel in the swimming pool, warm up in the hot tub, shoot several games of eight ball on the new table and retire for steaks and such. Speaking of which I must away to fly the flag of conspicuous consumption.