I wake up at 6 am in the big fluffy bed and immediately set to drinking my entire water bottle. FROM THIS DAY FORTH I SHALL HYDRATE. I slide into my dress, pack up my two panniers and say a quick goodbye to my hosts before heading to Uncle Loui’s Cafe for a massive breakfast. I get mug of coffee (cream n’ sugar it real good) and then order a veggie omelette, hash browns, a side order of sausage and one buttermilk pancake. I take a picture of the entire feast and then another one of all the empty plates.
I slowly bike towards the lake and find a nice quiet bench with an incredible view and sit for four hours and drink two tallboys while sitting in the sun. I don’t look much at my phone or listen to music. I’m just spending some quality time with Madame Superior, one last long conversation before I say goodbye.
A couple walks by and I charm them into taking a few photos of me with my bike next to the lake. Most of them turn out terrible due to the dark shadows on my face, since the sun in behind me. They manage to get one decent image of me, but I’m squinting deeply.
In the early afternoon, I meet my friend Nickey at Dunn Brothers and I’m sipping another pale coffee she shows up in her pick up truck with blue hair, sequined doc martins and a little dog in a pink harness. She is a shining queer beacon here to haul me and my bike back to Minneapolis. On the drive home we stop at a casino and all the flashing lights and squawking alarms makes me anxious, so we only play the Dolly Parton themed machine then keep moving. We stop at a diner style restaurant on the way home and I eat a cheeseburger and we both get a slice of pie. We make it home just before nightfall.
I climb up the stairs first with just my bike then with both of my panniers. My roommate greets me as if I have been gone for a long weekend. I grab an ice pack out of the freezer and go into my room. I sniff the air and only faintly recognize my own scent. I lay down and place an ice pack over my knee and crack open a crisp can of grapefruit sparkling water like the goddamn gentry and it’s MY BED but it’s, like, NOT MY BED.