I drove for three hours with a stranger. Our flight up to Duluth had been canceled, and we were both standing in line to rent a car. Why not drive together? We sized each other up, as if with one glance you’d see the probability of getting murdered. We shook hands and walked through the parking lot to get in the car.

It’s a three hour drive from Minneapolis to Duluth. After an hour of driving, the fog became so thick it felt like I was drowning in skim milk. Landing a plane in this would be impossible. So we drove slow and talked.

He travels overseas to repair machines that make paper napkins. I guess there is a whole paper-napkin industry that I know nothing about. So I tried to learn as much as a could. Then it was my turn. I confessed I was on “The Real World.” In an average ten-minute conversation with a stranger, I can void this fact. But after a couple hours of bantor, you just have to say it.

On either side of the road, there was a a thick blanket of snow on the ground. It gave a blue glow to the foot of the white fog. It was beautiful. I started this day watching the sun rise in the red desert of Arizona.

I dropped him off in Duluth and drove on to the church. I ran inside and grabbed the mic. The talk was going rather well because I’ve had a good Lent. The pews were filled with high schoolers, listening intently. Then dozens of old people mosied their way into the church. I guess they came early for Mass, and they were perturbed there was no seats. It was hard to stay focused on my talk when an old lady with a walker is demanding she have her seat back.

:::

It’d been a long night. I sat in my car in the church parking lot, waiting for my escort to the hotel. After fifteen minutes of watching the rain, I put my car in reverse, cocked my steering wheel, and pressed the gas. It was hysterical.

I didn’t know where I was going because I was driving backwards. All I could see was my headlights carving out a tight circle in the dense fog. From a distance, I could’ve passed as a light house. I kept doing that for a half hour.

:::

That was last night. Now it’s 7:30 AM and I am sitting in the Duluth airport waiting for my flight to Minneapolis. This morning I walked out of my hotel and looked out over one of the Great Lakes. I had no idea my hotel was on the lake.

My life is so bizarre.