hot mess

The temperature is above freezing for once, so I decide to take the Rottweiler on her first run.

We reach the Lake of the Isles before I realize that Gertrude does not run, at all.

She trots for a few seconds and then plants her bum on the sidewalk like, “Oh, you think you can rush me, foo?”

I panic. I am stuck in a park, during the daytime, with a dog!
This is a disaster.

Walking in a dog in Minnesota is like wearing a red polo in a Target store: an invitation for harassment. Walking a dog feel like having a big sign across my chest: “I AM APPROACHABLE AND WILL LISTEN TO YOUR OVERSHARE!”

The cliché of “Minnesota Nice” is really a euphemism for “Minnesota Batshit-crazy.”

The constant conversation-starting and overshare¹ makes me feel like I walked into one huge group home. Strangers tell me about any dog they – or a friend – has owned, their AA meetings, their relatives’ social security checks, their children, juicy canker sores… it’s…just…terrible.

But I have a plan! I turn up my MP3 player so loud that everyone will know that I can’t hear them and then just avoid eye contact! Brilliant!

A few people actually wave and invade my personal space to get my attention, but I flash a curt smile and keep walking. The message is clear: “Sorry if I appeared approachable. I’m not. Bye now.”

The long dog walk was also a bit of a chore because the Rottweiler is so awkward. She dives into chest-deep snow banks and flails around as if she’s swimming. This is cute for exactly 12 minutes before I yank the leash and drag her home.

This Gertrude after she scaled a retaining wall:

What an awkward duckling. I think she suits me.

And my Minnesota-induced social anxiety is not limited to dog walks…

Edit: I wrote a rather lengthy post about the “crazy” I’ve encountered in Minneapolis, but I had some unexpected time to think due to internet problems and I decided that I was unfair.

Here are my findings of fact (what’s the point of a JD if I can’t inject legalese into blog posts?):

1. I live in the ghetto, so the crackhead prostitutes, police raids, shootings, drug dealers, and bodies on the street should not shock me at all.
2. Although getting cornered on the highway was pretty bad, most people (besides Lady Gaga) don’t wake up and say “Hey, I’m going to be socially inappropriate today!” and most people aren’t even aware they are socially inappropriate.

Heck, many of my now-regular readers thought this blog was socially inappropriate when I started law school. A flamboyant, non-anonymous law student? Blogging? Tweeting? What? Gasp. “That’s inappropriate!”

Not anymore. One year later, Huma and I aren’t shocking at all, are we? Watch us give fashion claws…

“Social appropriateness” is a safe, but also a surefire way to be bland.  It’s just like how Kelly Clarkson sells, but we how really prefer Madonna, Gaga, and Beyonce.

My problem with my Minneapolis crazies is that I constantly feel harassed, but this may be the price of living downtown in any city.

At least I’m not bored.

¹ And before you go there, there’s a difference between a blog that YOU have to look up and someone randomly oversharing on the street to a complete stranger. And if you have a problem with my foursquare updates, I won’t be offended if you unadd me from facebook, dear.