Forkin' Around

Since my sister-in-law had the day off from work, she and Wife hung out the “No Boys Allowed” sign, and I was left to explore on my own. I don’t know exactly what they had planned, but since I grew up with lots of sisters, I’m pretty sure it involved talking smack about other girls ("Can you believe Meagan’s shorts? Oh, my gawd!"), doing each other’s hair, and pouring over issues of Tiger Beat (in his defense, Parker Stevenson is a babe). 

Grand Forks, ND and East Grand Forks, MN. East meets West.

Anyway, I took the opportunity to point the minivan toward Winnipeg and drive north until my lack of a passport became problematic. Since we have been to Winnipeg before (how could we not, it’s the birthplace of poutine for God’s sake), I ultimately ended up only about an hour north of Fargo in Grand Forks/East Grand Forks. 

The horizon continues. The free space on my iPhone did not.

As you head north out of Fargo, the landscape becomes a little more extreme. It seems flatter, if that’s possible. The few trees that dot the landscape are permanently torqued toward the east in response to mother nature’s relentless blowjob from the other direction. And although it was a beautiful summer day, there was still a foreboding sense of how unforgiving this area must be come winter time. 

Mr. Bergman, North Dakota is on line one.

I mentioned flat. It’s more than that. For some reason, I was particularly stricken by how sharply defined and abundant the surrounding horizon was. It was a constant, linear reminder of how far in the middle of nothingness I was, and that has a way of making you feel small and a bit melancholy. Who knew a single line could change your mood like that (well, cocaine users do, but that’s just what I've heard).

Oh, honey, don't touch the big metallic dog poop.

I once read that the indigenous peoples of Alaska and northern Canada (if you’re a Trump supporter, I believe the word you’re looking for here is Eskimo) are significantly more adept at solving Rubik’s Cubes than other groups. The theory goes that thanks to the nearly identical color of the snow, ice, and sky in the Arctic, they lack a discernible horizon most months out of the year. This leaves them dimensional-ly untethered and forces them to hyper-develop spatial relationship, problem solving skills. If that’s the case, then one could reverse-reason that native North Dakotans, with their ever-present, laser-etched division between heaven and earth, struggle to even free their Rubik’s Cubes from the boxes they are shipped in. 

I bet they’re savages at Sorry! though.

Rather sobering riverside monument of actual levels of various devastating floods of the past. Note the normal river level in the background.

For a better sense of scale of just how deep some of the floods were (and how painfully bright the sun was that day).

Chia Head.
Giant James Cameron Avatar edition.

On the way home I was feeling a little tense from the drive, so I brought myself to Climax.

Apparently there's a women's section, but as usual, I struggled to find it.