Trashley: Forty-Eight

Minnesota

I was excited to go to Minnesota, which is something I never thought I’d feel. I’d become friends with Ashley’s wife, Cecelia, and now Michelle (another of Ashley’s victims) and I were on our way to meet her in person. The middle of America sounded like a foreign country to me. Did they drive on the other side of the road there? I didn’t know what to expect. I pictured the Midwest as a flat expanse where everyone has a pet cow, and with an Applebees on every corner.

A woman I’d been on a few dates with dropped me off at the airport. I was gonna have to end things with her when I got back because she didn’t believe in air conditioning, and instead of having insurance, she bought doctor visits on Groupon. Plus, I was in my heartbreaker era. I had no intention of being serious with anyone after what I’d just been through with Ashley. The lesbians were not okay. Sometimes I thought it’d be safer to dig a hole in the ground and lay there until I died.

As I walked through LAX, I played my favorite airport game called “Guess where the plane is going based on how people are dressed at the gate.” I correctly guessed a flight to Honolulu, which was almost too easy with the Hawaiian shirts and flip-flops. Then I spotted a small herd of lesbians who were so granola it looked like they’d been raised by Mother Nature herself. Portland, baby. When I came upon a sea of green John Deere hats and flannel shirts, I knew I had found my flight. Most of the women had girl-next-door vibes. They were naturally beautiful as if…