Bohemian Avenue
The underground parking ramp was a dim cement cavern that spiraled into the ground under a tower of glass. John had washed about ten cars today ranging from a modest Honda Accord to a Lexus with tan leather interior and power everything, from brakes to the seat that had several programmable positions designed for more than one driver.
He’d had to go up to the fortieth floor to deliver the keys and collect the fee on that last one. The ten-dollar tip was more than worth it to get out of the dungeon and to snatch a glance out over Minneapolis from the big window behind the receptionist.
The day was done as far as he was concerned. It was after four o’clock and John was sick of the cars and oblivious corporate suits that either ignored him or deigned to say hello from their lofty perch of success and productivity. He was tired of walking through the ramp and giving complimentary window washes to cars leaving a business card for the car wash that was a feature of the parking ramp. He had gotten so bored with the wait between washes that he had started to remember all the cars that had pretty and well-dressed women at the wheel and would exclusively reserve the complimentary window washes for them. After all, women were usually not as attentive to their vehicles as men were.
He grabbed his coat and headed for the ramp’s cashier booth. Since this was rather a modest and exclusive parking ramp, there was only one booth. The girl that was on duty now, was no longer the impish, aspiring dancer with her red hair from a bottle, but the quiet silky dark Ethiopian girl that was a University student.
John pushed in behind her chair and reaching over her shoulder, grabbed his time card and punched out for the day. She simply smiled as he said goodbye. He left with the scent of her pleasantly spicy perfume in his nostrils. He remembered from his days in the Army, an occasional black draped lady in Saudi Arabia would wear the same sort of perfume, but it probably wouldn’t be the same on his wife.
He thought he had seen a lot in his travels in England, Germany, the Middle East and Panama, but since coming to the Twin Cities, he realized he missed the changes of styles in his own country. The unnatural colored hair and many piercings weren’t all that much of a surprise to him, after all the punkers were all over Europe. It seemed that Americans traded some of their chains and spiked collars for the ugliest colors in clothes. His brother, who was temporarily his roommate until he could establish himself in “The Cities”, told him it was called Grunge. Retro and Grunge were in, and preppies, and stoners were extinct. The nerds were making the money while everyone rode on the shirttails of their success.
All of that was living side by side and mixed in with the Hippies who were now teaching at the University or running their coffee houses and New Age shops. The Bohemians began where the skyscrapers ended and interspersed with residential areas all the way to Saint Paul, which had to be the ugly twin of the “Cities”.
Then there were people like the Ethiopian girl who came to the University or just to settle in the United States. Now there were more kinds of Asians, Middle Easterners and so on. That didn’t bother John at all. That was rather interesting. He never thought he’d come close to culture shock in his own country though.
The wind picked up enough to mist his face with the drizzle that was coming down as he stepped out onto the street. He could have taken the skyway a little farther and gotten closer to home before hitting the street, but he wanted some weather instead of the continuous parade of business after business all through the skyways. He’d wait until January to use the warm passages a story above ground.
The Bohemian parts of the Twin Cities appealed to him. He enjoyed the specialty shops. He had a better chance of finding any book, comic book, coffee, tea, incense or anything else one looked for in these shops than anyplace he had been in his past. His brother had immediately gotten him hooked on the Science Fiction bookstore in “Gangland”. That was his own tag for the neighborhood. He had a right to call it that. He and his brother lived there in an apartment with another vocational student aspiring to break into radio broadcasting.
As soon as he found a decent paying job, John would bring his wife and kids from the In-Laws’ to live here.
The drizzle let up and the air wasn’t so cold that walking the whole way back to “Gangland” would be rather pleasant. The groups standing on the corner didn’t bother him. He was used to that. He had embarked on his Army career from Detroit and had seen such urban scenes before.
He’d never been approached by staggering Native Americans before. They would hold out their hands and ask, “Have you got a penny?” He supposed they kept it up until they had gotten a penny from three hundred people to get something from the liquor store. He was sure someone just gave them money to be rid of him or her. What he found disgusting, was the thought of them drinking Listerine to get their buzz. His brother had told him that, too.
John must have missed quite a bit in the last nine years to be so naïve in the city now. He was curious to learn more about people here.
To be continued…….
He’d had to go up to the fortieth floor to deliver the keys and collect the fee on that last one. The ten-dollar tip was more than worth it to get out of the dungeon and to snatch a glance out over Minneapolis from the big window behind the receptionist.
The day was done as far as he was concerned. It was after four o’clock and John was sick of the cars and oblivious corporate suits that either ignored him or deigned to say hello from their lofty perch of success and productivity. He was tired of walking through the ramp and giving complimentary window washes to cars leaving a business card for the car wash that was a feature of the parking ramp. He had gotten so bored with the wait between washes that he had started to remember all the cars that had pretty and well-dressed women at the wheel and would exclusively reserve the complimentary window washes for them. After all, women were usually not as attentive to their vehicles as men were.
He grabbed his coat and headed for the ramp’s cashier booth. Since this was rather a modest and exclusive parking ramp, there was only one booth. The girl that was on duty now, was no longer the impish, aspiring dancer with her red hair from a bottle, but the quiet silky dark Ethiopian girl that was a University student.
John pushed in behind her chair and reaching over her shoulder, grabbed his time card and punched out for the day. She simply smiled as he said goodbye. He left with the scent of her pleasantly spicy perfume in his nostrils. He remembered from his days in the Army, an occasional black draped lady in Saudi Arabia would wear the same sort of perfume, but it probably wouldn’t be the same on his wife.
He thought he had seen a lot in his travels in England, Germany, the Middle East and Panama, but since coming to the Twin Cities, he realized he missed the changes of styles in his own country. The unnatural colored hair and many piercings weren’t all that much of a surprise to him, after all the punkers were all over Europe. It seemed that Americans traded some of their chains and spiked collars for the ugliest colors in clothes. His brother, who was temporarily his roommate until he could establish himself in “The Cities”, told him it was called Grunge. Retro and Grunge were in, and preppies, and stoners were extinct. The nerds were making the money while everyone rode on the shirttails of their success.
All of that was living side by side and mixed in with the Hippies who were now teaching at the University or running their coffee houses and New Age shops. The Bohemians began where the skyscrapers ended and interspersed with residential areas all the way to Saint Paul, which had to be the ugly twin of the “Cities”.
Then there were people like the Ethiopian girl who came to the University or just to settle in the United States. Now there were more kinds of Asians, Middle Easterners and so on. That didn’t bother John at all. That was rather interesting. He never thought he’d come close to culture shock in his own country though.
The wind picked up enough to mist his face with the drizzle that was coming down as he stepped out onto the street. He could have taken the skyway a little farther and gotten closer to home before hitting the street, but he wanted some weather instead of the continuous parade of business after business all through the skyways. He’d wait until January to use the warm passages a story above ground.
The Bohemian parts of the Twin Cities appealed to him. He enjoyed the specialty shops. He had a better chance of finding any book, comic book, coffee, tea, incense or anything else one looked for in these shops than anyplace he had been in his past. His brother had immediately gotten him hooked on the Science Fiction bookstore in “Gangland”. That was his own tag for the neighborhood. He had a right to call it that. He and his brother lived there in an apartment with another vocational student aspiring to break into radio broadcasting.
As soon as he found a decent paying job, John would bring his wife and kids from the In-Laws’ to live here.
The drizzle let up and the air wasn’t so cold that walking the whole way back to “Gangland” would be rather pleasant. The groups standing on the corner didn’t bother him. He was used to that. He had embarked on his Army career from Detroit and had seen such urban scenes before.
He’d never been approached by staggering Native Americans before. They would hold out their hands and ask, “Have you got a penny?” He supposed they kept it up until they had gotten a penny from three hundred people to get something from the liquor store. He was sure someone just gave them money to be rid of him or her. What he found disgusting, was the thought of them drinking Listerine to get their buzz. His brother had told him that, too.
John must have missed quite a bit in the last nine years to be so naïve in the city now. He was curious to learn more about people here.
To be continued…….
posted by praiseage at 6:21 AM
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