Minneapolis' Brass Rail Bar (in that old, narrow building on Hennepin Avenue that looks like it's about to cave in out itself) makes an appearance in the liner notes of the new Okkervil River record. So does the Crystal Corner Bar in Madison, Wis (where I saw Rob Krieger of the Doors perform when I was sixteen). Okkervil River is not a MPLS band, they're from Austin, Tex. When I first breezed through the liner notes, I assumed that the photos were of Austin. But what do I know? The last song on the record also references a Washington Avenue bridge (and, actually, the Brass Rail).

I find myself yelling at motorists whenever I walk around uptown. I don't know if this is a sympton of road rage, a personality flaw, or a normal human reaction-called fear-to being in the path of an accelerating two-ton vehicle. Last week, I yelled at an entire family as I crossed Lagoon. It was a mom and three kids, and they turned onto Lagoon as I was trying to cross. All their windows were down, and the kids stared up at me as I said, "I really appreciate this!" And I thought, what's the hurry? I'm the one walking. You're traveling at 30 mph, and you don't even have to stand up to do it. Why not hold on a second so I can get across the street safely? But nope, I was duly ignored. And recently I yelled at a guy who was driving in the bike lane downtown on Hennepin Avenue (not the first time I've see this). I was stopped on my bike at a stop light, and when I looked behind me there was a guy in a purple trans-am, windows down, his newly implanted hair strands undulating in the breeze, and totally happy with himself for taking advantage of this extra lane that other drivers seemed oblivious to. I said, "hey, this is the bike lane!" and he ignored me. We met up again a block later at the next stop light. By this time he'd moved over to the bus lane (a single lane buses use to travel in the opposite direction). I pedaled next to him, and told him he was in the wrong lane. Of course he knew he was in the wrong lane, and continued to ignore me. I repeated myself many times: "Yo, man, that lane is not for cars." As the light changed he turned to me and said, "Give it a break." I'm not sure what I hoped to accomplish by giving him a hard time, except to let him know I was mad that he was making my life a little harder. Maybe if he'd apologized or hadn't been driving the purple trans am (too fucking audacious, it even sparkled like motorcycle helmets from the 70's), I would've been more forgiving. I felt like he was infringing upon my right to bike safely in downtown Minneapolis. As I pedaled away, I uttered the requisite "fuck you." I didn't feel totally satisfied with this exchange. I'd been happy and now I was mad. But then, a moment later, I passed a cop car. I pointed back at the lane offender, still in the bus lane. I don't necessarily like siccing the cops on people, but I couldn't help myself. "We see him," the cop behind the wheel said (he probably saw the guy the whole time he'd been stopped at the light. And probably the guy had seen the cops the whole time, too). Ultimately, I'd rather not exchange words with motorists. It's not entirely civil. And how long until someone gets out of his (or her?) car and beats me up?