Plans are Suggestions
Next in the Minnesotan Thaw series
The plan was to see The Lumineers in the UK. At The State Fayre. Which, now that I think about it, is a big ole hippie-camp-out-fest, and isn’t exactly my style anyway. But camping wasn’t really the point. Neither was The Lumineers, if I’m honest. And anyway, I guess I thought it was about one thing and it turned out that it was about something else all along.
So UK didn’t happen. I wouldn’t be glamping in Chelmsford. But I realized I still had a UK budget running stateside. So I started looking for where I’d land. And I landed on Minnesota.
And I booked the Platinum VIP because… why not?
The plan was my friend Craig and I would fly to Minnesota, explore St. Paul, and catch the Lumineers as Very Important People. But like I shared here, that didn’t happen. Not even close.
So I pivoted. After thinking about burning it all to the ground, and then a series of stops and starts, my brother, Matt, entered the scene. We’d even choreographed a whole booking session ensuring we’d travel the last leg of the trip to Minnesota together, which made me happy for lots of reasons, not the least of which was not navigating that part alone.
So the plans were in order. The flights were booked. The itinerary once we got there was scheduled with a respectable amount of wiggle room. The outfit I’d planned on wearing since January was steamed and packed with the care one only learns by watching eighteen how-to videos on YouTube.
There would be no more hitches.
For the weeks leading up to takeoff, I’d convinced myself that I was not capable of navigating airports, strange cities, and even stranger Ubers on my own. I knew if I just kept my head down and walked straight ahead at the Birmingham International Airport, my brother would take the reins in Philly. It’s all I had to do, and I’d psyched myself up with all the energy I had, to accomplish just that.
American Airlines decided differently.
Less than twelve hours before my flight I was rerouted to Dallas/Fort Worth.
Originally the plan was to drop our bags off at our hotel when we landed, grab a leisurely lunch and maybe a couple of local brews before check-in. Instead, I sat in Dallas/Fort Worth because, thankfully, I can navigate airports on my own and I did find my gate, while my brother made his way to the Philly airport. And boarded. And landed in Minnesota. Only then did I board my flight.
By the time we collected luggage, wrangled an Uber, talked on the phone to the Uber driver to lead us to the Uber pickup area—it was time to check in. Like I said in my previous piece, not much else happened that day but protein bars, naps, and dinner in my pajamas.
The day before the festival, we planned to explore some used bookstores, record shops, and a couple of local ‘specialty’ establishments Matt had found—taking full advantage of Minnesota’s newly relaxed green laws. The plan was to bike around St. Paul, feeling the wind in our faces, and get a little vitamin D and fresh air.
Who knew those items would be served up a little… charred. Canadian wildfires were affecting St. Paul something awful. The air was hazy. A little dirty. A little smoky. It kind of stung our eyes. And lungs. We decided a bike ride was not “just the thing.”
Matt suggested we go swimming. We walked down to the pool area and grabbed some towels.
“We didn’t come all the way up here to just hang out in the hotel…” I sighed.
“No. We didn’t,” he answered. “We came up here to see The Lumineers. And we will.”
“But…”
“Gray, if you were going to plan a trip to explore St. Paul would you schedule it in July in 100º heat?”
“Well,” I answered. “I guess not.”
“Exactly. We came to see the band. From the Platinum VIP Lounge. And that..?” He cocked his head. ”We will do.”
I nodded.
“If we don’t do a damn thing until then, we’re not doing anything wrong.”
“You’re right.”
“I know.” And then… “CANNONBALL!”
The next day we planned on going to the festival early, checking it out, then coming home for a dip in the pool. Then I’d change into my outfit—the one I’d planned on wearing since January and walk back over. We were only staying a mile away from the venue and, since the skies had somehow turned a brilliant blue overnight, this was doable.
Sort of.
We came back for the wardrobe change and looked at my brother. “There’s no way I’m walking back over that bridge in my cowboy boots.”
My daytime outfit was a flowy skirt, Magnolia Pearl t-shirt, and tennis shoes. If you know me, you know I do not love tennis shoes. I like Dr. Martens and Cowboy Boots and other big clunky, very me shoes. I do not love a sneaker. I never have. But sometimes, comfort wins. LIke this time.
My daytime outfit became my nighttime outfit. And for some reason, I wasn’t the least bit upset about this change in plans.
So, after a quick swim, and maybe a quicker little nap, we headed back over. The Lumineers took the stage. The Lumineers were wonderful. The Lumineers were everything I thought they’d be playing for 35,000 hot sweaty people in the middle of St. Paul, Minnesota.
I danced. I sang. I laughed. I took photos.
Halfway through the show, about ten miles away in Minneapolis, I saw lightning flashing behind the clouds. Then a warning on the Jumbotron.
WEATHER IN THE AREA
My heart sank. I knew the show would be ending. But the band played on.
For a minute, anyway.
About fifteen minutes before the festival was supposed to end, a light rain started.
Wesley Schultz announced, “We planned on playing a few more songs for you, but we want you to get home ahead of the storm.”
Of course.
So they cut the show short. Surprisingly, the Minnesota Nice stereotype turned out to be true. Every few feet, someone smiled and made room until I found myself at the front of the stage.
As Wesley started into Stubborn Love, the rain started falling harder.
He sang about keeping your head up and your heart intact. I figured that was close enough to poetic for this trip.
I thought about England.
Craig.
Philadelphia.
Dallas.
The wildfires.
Bikes never rented.
The outfit hanging in the closet at the hotel.
The itinerary I’d revised so many times I could have published it.
Nothing happened the way I’d imagined.
The rain kept falling.
Wesley kept singing.
His white jacket wasn’t exactly white anymore.
It seemed like this wasn’t the night he’d planned either.
Somehow…
I couldn’t imagine wanting a different one.
Here’s the mixtape.
Stubborn Love — The Lumineers
Learn to Fly — Foo Fighters
Where We Are — The Lumineers
All Your’n — Tyler Childers
Back Down South — Kings of Leon
You’re Gonna Go Far — Noah Kahan
loved this. you’re a really great storyteller. I love the way you weave music into your writing.
Sounds like a great trip! I have fond memories of singing along to 'Ho Hey' in the car when my two boys were wee little lads.