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Oct. 6th, 2008 07:26 pmMy day on Wednesday was a bit of an adventure.
Tuesday night / Wednesday morning I completed my sleep study. I arrived just past 7:00pm and they wired me up around 8:30pm. I had two wires on each leg, two on each side of my chest, a position sensor on the front of my chest with three cables, three wires on my forehead and ten wires on my head. A infrared light was in the room with a camera to record my entire night of sleep. I was afraid I was going to fall asleep with no problems at first, but I probably had the worst time getting to sleep I can remember, this being a good thing. In the middle of the night I knocked a sensor loose and the tech came in to put it back into place, his exact quote was "you are a squirrly one, aren't you?". I agreed with his comment and made a trip to the bathroom, went back to the room and then proceeded to finally fall asleep. The morning tech woke me at 09:15am removed the wires and sent me on my way with an appointment with the sleep doctor in November. It will be interesting to hear what the results were.
I made a stop at work, and then took the day off. I went home, visited with LeAnn and got cleaned up and figured this would be a good day to visit the Sheriff's office and submit my application to carry a pistol. I caught the bus downtown for a mostly uneventful ride. There was one stop where a couple of "losers" got on the bus, one white guy with long blonde frazzled hair, and another maybe 20% native american 80% white with short dark hair. They were arguing like a married couple, and appeared to have just rolled out of the previous party and were heading to the next one. The short haired one keep bugging me for details on why I was going downtown, and I eventually admitted I was going to the Sheriff's office for a carry permit. He was wide-eyed at this point, and he informed me that to get a permit you can't have any felony convictions on your record, and I confirmed that I had zero felony convictions. He was amazed that someone could not have at least one felony, "not one felony dude?", I shook my head to indicate no.
I got off the bus on 4th and walked to city hall, it was an amazing day, sunshine, perfect temp, light breeze. A perfect day to stroll around downtown. I reached the Sheriff's office and got my application out. It is a really tiny little office that issues the permits, maybe 8'x8' with a window with a little hole to speak through and a little slot to hand papers through. I breezed right through the process, having every thing ready before hand, the clerk did not need to make a single photocopy or provide any additional paperwork. All I had to do was apply my signature in three locations, cut a check and I was done in two minutes. Like I said in my pervious post, this was kind of a grim thing to do. I actually submitted an application to carry a firearm in public. The training and testing was by comparison an exciting thing to do, as you were surrounded by others and an instructor, shooting on the range and discussing the laws. Submitting your application is a bit more lonely, a little cold, and your on your own at that point, no brothers in arms. I imagine that's what it will feel like carrying a handgun, a grim reminder of using your new privilege responsibly. Many I talk with about this feel that having a pistol at your side is something cool and exciting, I think it is more depressing and ominous. Wearing a pistol at your side is not something that is easy to forget, the weight of the pistol is constantly reminding you it is there and that you might need to use it. The part about needing to use it is the worst thought, because it is the very last option you have, and what will be the situation you are in that this will be the case?
So just keep in mind if you see the .45 under my jacket, I'm not happy about it being there either. But I hope to make some progress in the city that will reduce the need for me to have it at all.
Well, after that I wandered downtown looking for interesting things. The problem is, most of the little shops are gone, replaced by chain stores or offices. City Center food court, gone. Big Brain Comics, gone. Let It Be records, gone. Shinders, gone. Suns, gone. Northern Lights Music, long gone. It's all gone away, everything that made downtown Minneapolis interesting (with the exception of First Ave.) is gone. It's all Crate and Barrels, Barnes and Nobles, Starbucks coffees, Targets, LeAnn Chins, meat markets, and trendy night clubs.
So hit a Taco Johns for some ho-hum tacos and bean burritos. Then I crawled into Brit's pub for a pint of Newcastle and sat and watched ESPN with a bunch of uptight suits, kinda pathetic. Wandered up to Target for some sunglasses to put on my street wise face. Hit Wallgreens for some antacids since the Newcastle upset my stomach something fierce. Headed East to check out the new library, the new library is very impressive, the kind of thing a person can be proud of their tax dollars. I was also happy to see the various weather beaten bearded homeless men in the lobby wearing everything they own on their back. Got a Dunn Brothers coffee and chilled out on the patio outside the library and did some people watching.
Wandered up to the army surplus store, the selection was awful. Made my way up to Sex World and roamed around there for a little while. I kept staring at the women in the glass boxes from a distance, with the little dollar taker machine and box of paper towels behind the doors one can close. I'm both a little horrified by a woman in a glass box because it is so wrong, yet fascinated because it is so wrong. That they are in there making a living by people putting money in something that is not at all that different from a vending machine and then proceeding to beat off. Vending people, to beat off, gah, wrong wrong wrong. Bottom line, I'm too shy to beat off in front of a woman in a glass box, so I passed. The new line of Ron Jeremy products is a good time as well.
From there a straight shot to NE Minneapolis, trespassing as much as possible. At one point a railroad employee did in fact shoo me off of a bridge near Riverplace and I had to find a different route. This new route was good, as I located a string of apple trees. Many rotten apples were on the ground, but there was still a whole bunch of fresh ripe ones up in the tree. I picked up a slightly rotten one, took aim and tossed it at the apple I wanted. I made a direct hit on my apple and caught it on the way down. I never hit anything I aim at, so I was at bit amazed I got my apple. I proceeded to munch my free, fresh crunchy apple on a crisp cool fall day as I made my way to Mayslack's bar in NE Minneapolis.
At Mayslack's I bellied up to the bar and got myself two pints of Schell's Firebrick Lagers off the tap for $4.00 (happy hour).
Tuesday night / Wednesday morning I completed my sleep study. I arrived just past 7:00pm and they wired me up around 8:30pm. I had two wires on each leg, two on each side of my chest, a position sensor on the front of my chest with three cables, three wires on my forehead and ten wires on my head. A infrared light was in the room with a camera to record my entire night of sleep. I was afraid I was going to fall asleep with no problems at first, but I probably had the worst time getting to sleep I can remember, this being a good thing. In the middle of the night I knocked a sensor loose and the tech came in to put it back into place, his exact quote was "you are a squirrly one, aren't you?". I agreed with his comment and made a trip to the bathroom, went back to the room and then proceeded to finally fall asleep. The morning tech woke me at 09:15am removed the wires and sent me on my way with an appointment with the sleep doctor in November. It will be interesting to hear what the results were.
I made a stop at work, and then took the day off. I went home, visited with LeAnn and got cleaned up and figured this would be a good day to visit the Sheriff's office and submit my application to carry a pistol. I caught the bus downtown for a mostly uneventful ride. There was one stop where a couple of "losers" got on the bus, one white guy with long blonde frazzled hair, and another maybe 20% native american 80% white with short dark hair. They were arguing like a married couple, and appeared to have just rolled out of the previous party and were heading to the next one. The short haired one keep bugging me for details on why I was going downtown, and I eventually admitted I was going to the Sheriff's office for a carry permit. He was wide-eyed at this point, and he informed me that to get a permit you can't have any felony convictions on your record, and I confirmed that I had zero felony convictions. He was amazed that someone could not have at least one felony, "not one felony dude?", I shook my head to indicate no.
I got off the bus on 4th and walked to city hall, it was an amazing day, sunshine, perfect temp, light breeze. A perfect day to stroll around downtown. I reached the Sheriff's office and got my application out. It is a really tiny little office that issues the permits, maybe 8'x8' with a window with a little hole to speak through and a little slot to hand papers through. I breezed right through the process, having every thing ready before hand, the clerk did not need to make a single photocopy or provide any additional paperwork. All I had to do was apply my signature in three locations, cut a check and I was done in two minutes. Like I said in my pervious post, this was kind of a grim thing to do. I actually submitted an application to carry a firearm in public. The training and testing was by comparison an exciting thing to do, as you were surrounded by others and an instructor, shooting on the range and discussing the laws. Submitting your application is a bit more lonely, a little cold, and your on your own at that point, no brothers in arms. I imagine that's what it will feel like carrying a handgun, a grim reminder of using your new privilege responsibly. Many I talk with about this feel that having a pistol at your side is something cool and exciting, I think it is more depressing and ominous. Wearing a pistol at your side is not something that is easy to forget, the weight of the pistol is constantly reminding you it is there and that you might need to use it. The part about needing to use it is the worst thought, because it is the very last option you have, and what will be the situation you are in that this will be the case?
So just keep in mind if you see the .45 under my jacket, I'm not happy about it being there either. But I hope to make some progress in the city that will reduce the need for me to have it at all.
Well, after that I wandered downtown looking for interesting things. The problem is, most of the little shops are gone, replaced by chain stores or offices. City Center food court, gone. Big Brain Comics, gone. Let It Be records, gone. Shinders, gone. Suns, gone. Northern Lights Music, long gone. It's all gone away, everything that made downtown Minneapolis interesting (with the exception of First Ave.) is gone. It's all Crate and Barrels, Barnes and Nobles, Starbucks coffees, Targets, LeAnn Chins, meat markets, and trendy night clubs.
So hit a Taco Johns for some ho-hum tacos and bean burritos. Then I crawled into Brit's pub for a pint of Newcastle and sat and watched ESPN with a bunch of uptight suits, kinda pathetic. Wandered up to Target for some sunglasses to put on my street wise face. Hit Wallgreens for some antacids since the Newcastle upset my stomach something fierce. Headed East to check out the new library, the new library is very impressive, the kind of thing a person can be proud of their tax dollars. I was also happy to see the various weather beaten bearded homeless men in the lobby wearing everything they own on their back. Got a Dunn Brothers coffee and chilled out on the patio outside the library and did some people watching.
Wandered up to the army surplus store, the selection was awful. Made my way up to Sex World and roamed around there for a little while. I kept staring at the women in the glass boxes from a distance, with the little dollar taker machine and box of paper towels behind the doors one can close. I'm both a little horrified by a woman in a glass box because it is so wrong, yet fascinated because it is so wrong. That they are in there making a living by people putting money in something that is not at all that different from a vending machine and then proceeding to beat off. Vending people, to beat off, gah, wrong wrong wrong. Bottom line, I'm too shy to beat off in front of a woman in a glass box, so I passed. The new line of Ron Jeremy products is a good time as well.
From there a straight shot to NE Minneapolis, trespassing as much as possible. At one point a railroad employee did in fact shoo me off of a bridge near Riverplace and I had to find a different route. This new route was good, as I located a string of apple trees. Many rotten apples were on the ground, but there was still a whole bunch of fresh ripe ones up in the tree. I picked up a slightly rotten one, took aim and tossed it at the apple I wanted. I made a direct hit on my apple and caught it on the way down. I never hit anything I aim at, so I was at bit amazed I got my apple. I proceeded to munch my free, fresh crunchy apple on a crisp cool fall day as I made my way to Mayslack's bar in NE Minneapolis.
At Mayslack's I bellied up to the bar and got myself two pints of Schell's Firebrick Lagers off the tap for $4.00 (happy hour).
