Minneapolis St. Paul International Airport

As Shakespeare said in Romeo and Juliet, parting is such sweet sorrow. Well, a drive-to and dump at the airport simply removes the sweetness and prevents a messy mutual suicide pact down the road. If he takes it hard and breaks down a bit, he's surrounded by strangers, so there's no embarrassment; let them make up their own tragi-romantic scenarios for what just happened. Besides, he has been plumped in the midst of the ersatz mall the airport has become: He can go buy a state-themed hankie, a Playboy, a stiff cocktail. But the best guilt reliever is that he has a ticket to go somewhere, a chance to wipe the slate clean, make a fresh start. Most immediately, he'll be whooshed up into the clouds, where, at least for a few hours, they won't allow him to use his cell phone to beg you back. Meanwhile, you are now free to move about the rest of the male population.


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