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Deja vu and the eventual revelation

It is funny how life comes full circle -- sometimes when you least expect it. A mystic would say that all the stars were aligned in your favor. They may even go as far as to imply kismet. Quantum physics states that it is possible for all things to reoccur, no matter how unlikely. Of course these same theories make it possible, if you give him a pencil and notebook, for a monkey to write a novel -- in Latin -- if he scribbles enough times.

All voodoo bets aside, I will just have to roll with it. A couple of weeks ago I had a nice trip down memory lane.

I was attending a conference in Minneapolis for the better part of the week. As I pulled into town, it was hopping. The Vikings and Packers were playing at the Dome. I made the mistake of taking the Fourth Street exit, right into downtown. This would be the first hint of the past that would not hit me until much later. I proceeded to get turned around and lost a bit in an area that I knew very well.

I had to be re-directed three separate times. Road construction? No. Traffic? No. Accidents? No. Fist fights between morons wearing purple jerseys and morons wearing green jerseys. I did notice that the biggest scuffle involved seven jerseys marked with the number 4, three green, four purple. A poetic dance of the lumberjack and jack pine savage. I nearly cried.

After making a million turns to get on the correct side of a two way street in a sea of one-way streets marked by fights and crowds, I arrived. I checked into the downtown Hyatt Regency. It was swanky and I quietly thanked Bill Gates for footing the bill. The joint had something all too familiar about it. I quickly registered, dropped my stuff in my room. I met a friend back in the lobby and headed to a sports bar to watch the game.

It was an electric environment. I was tickled to see a few cheese heads stuffed into a corner. And, of course, there was the table of obnoxious Wisconsinites right in the middle. Cheers came from both sides through the game. The Vikes won and the Packer Backers slinked back to what ever hole they crawled out of.

I popped up to the conference area the next morning. I saw the series of escalators reaching up a crazy amount of floors. I knew that I had seen those before. Maybe in a bad movie or something. Then, as I reached the fifth floor, I had another weird feeling. It all seemed so familiar to me.

All day as I scuttled between sessions. As all conferences do, I became a bit worn down. Lots of information and stuffy rooms will do that to you. I had a good day and was headed back to the same sports bar for the evening.

The Twins were in a one-game playoff to win the division and head to the playoffs. To my delight, a bunch of stiffs from Detroit gathered at the same table as the Packer fans had. As the night went on, is it safe to say, it got interesting. The Twinkies pulled it off and we were happy.

The next morning I mistakenly got off on floor three. That it when it hit me like a Mac truck. "Market!" I yelled. This was the place that I used to come to market with my dad when he owned the clothing store. The floor plan was the same as the fifth floor but the paint job is what did it. It was white -- all white. I remembered getting so lost in the maze of halls as a kid.

As I was thinking about how cool it was that my dad took me along I looked at a stranger and said, "The World Series ... 1987." I darted to find my friend and shouted out something that was apparently incomprehensible. Then, I took some oxygen and recalled how Dad and I went to the World Series in 1987. I yelled out, "That is why." They all looked puzzled. "You know, that's why the game last night seemed like I had done it before."

Then there was another revelation. The crazy crowd on the streets reminded me of being downtown in 1991 after the Twins won the World Series. I fondly remember bailing my friend out of jail after scrounging up enough money with my room mate.

Bam -- something else hit me. My roommate worked security and took tickets at the Dome the day the Super Bowl was in town in 1991. He used his ability to "palm" tickets and got a few of us in the gates several hours before the game. We had to beat it out of there well before the game. But, I can still say I was at a Super Bowl ... almost.

So, there you go. I was simply headed to a conference with a bunch of book worms. I should add that as I checked-in at the registration area on Monday, they asked me if I was really here for this conference and giggled (apparently I don't look the part). While in town I surfed a wild ride on fantastic memories. Memories I had even written columns about in the past. Now, if I can just find that monkey with the note book, I have my next column to write.