I still remember the day I landed at the Minneapolis airport three years ago and I went into a time machine where I felt unfamiliar and out-of-place but not uncomfortable or unwelcome.
The polite cab driver’s “you bet” in reply to my “thank you” kept me wondering whether I was invited to join him in a casino or not.
I was shell-shocked after learning that in a small town with a population of 9,000, people don’t even bother to lock their front doors in Minneapolis.
“Robbery? Burglary? That happens in big cities – not here in the Midwest – this is a very safe and peaceful place,” was my landlord’s loyal reassurance.