I have a new favorite state, and I never saw it coming.
I flew into Minneapolis for a pair of shoots up north. One near Outing, Minnesota, and one in the St. Cloud area. If you’re not familiar with Minnesota geography, just picture Minneapolis as the loud, busy front door, and everything north of it as the quiet, beautiful backyard that goes on forever.
Let me start with Minneapolis, because I need to get this off my chest. That city has an edge to it. I’m not saying it’s bad. I’m saying that everybody in the airport and on the highway seemed like they were three minutes away from a decision they might regret. It reminded me of Dallas, but colder and with more passive aggression. I got my rental car and pointed it north as fast as I could.
And then everything changed.
Once you get past the suburbs and into the lake country, Minnesota becomes a different planet. The trees are enormous. The lakes are everywhere. The air smells like pine and clean water and absolutely nothing else. I rolled the windows down and drove for two hours with this dumb grin on my face like I’d just discovered a cheat code for life.
The first shoot was near Outing. The family was incredible. Calm, funny, deeply kind. The kind of people who offer you coffee before you’ve finished setting up your tripod. We filmed on their property near the lake, and at one point between takes I just stood there staring at the water like an idiot. It was that beautiful.
The second shoot was closer to St. Cloud. Same deal. Wonderful people, big hearts, great story. I’m not going to pretend that Minnesota has a monopoly on good humans, but something about lake country up there just produces people who are genuinely, effortlessly nice. Not fake nice. Not Minnesota Nice (which, I’ve been told, is a thing and not always a compliment). Actually nice. The kind of nice where they send you home with leftovers and directions to the best gas station coffee in three counties.
I sat on the dock after the Outing shoot and called my wife. “I might move here,” I told her. She laughed. But I was only half kidding. Maybe a third kidding. The thought has not fully left my brain.
Here’s my only complaint: you have to fly through Minneapolis. Which means you have to drive through Minneapolis. Which means you have to deal with Minneapolis. And Minneapolis is crazy pants. I’m sorry, Minneapolis. You have great restaurants and a very nice art museum. But your highway system was designed by someone who wanted to watch the world burn.
Get me past that, though, and Minnesota is paradise. The lakes. The trees. The people (once you’re north of the city). If I ever disappear, check Pequot Lakes first. I’ll be on a dock somewhere, pretending I know how to fish.