The Strangest Thing Happened to Me in Fargo
I just spent the whole last week in Fargo, North Dakota.
One wouldn’t expect Fargo to make too many lists of “favorite places to visit.” It’s not what you would call a Travel and Leisure cover story. But the more times I’ve been here and hung out with the locals, with each visit I’ve increasingly looked forward to returning here again sometime soon, and this last trip was no exception. Just don’t book my ticket to North Dakota in mid-February, when it’s been known to get down to 40-degrees below zero in these parts.
Cynics might think about the only thing worse than spending a week in Fargo — is spending two weeks in Fargo. Not true. Three weeks, okay. I concede that. But this is a vibrant community where people mix and get along well. It’s an easy place to make new friends, and have an interesting conversation. It’s a place where people aren’t judged by the size of their bet or bankroll, as in Las Vegas. This being a university town, you’d be surprised at what’s discussed at the local pizza joint — everything from questions as to the greatest heavy metal album ever to the more philosophical dilemma of if we have “free will” By the way, while we’re on those topics — “Metallica” and “no.”
I had a blast this time, which was my fourth visit. So, what did I do? What exactly can one do in Fargo? Well, I appeared on a popular radio talk show. I enjoyed a genuine home-cooked meal, which included a stick-to-your-ribs dish called “Tater Tot Hot Dish,” which I tried for the very first time. I met some cool theater and art people. I got a personal tour of a Nordic museum with a giant authentic Viking ship. I toured the giant North Dakota State University football stadium and met the head coach of one of the best college football teams in the country (four-time national champions). One afternoon, I hung out with Rick Stenerson, a local legend who turned his office into happy hour. I attended a wine tasting. I even got to meet the Mayor of Fargo and interview him on camera. Wait, there’s more. Five straight days, I also saw an abortion protest group picketing out in front of a local women’s health clinic. Where else can you find such a diversity of attractions?
But nothing quite compares to being approached on Broadway, which is the main street through downtown Fargo on the final day of my visit. Long story short, I’d walked up and down these frigid sidewalks many times over the previous days, usually holding a book or two at my side, along with a laptop. Whenever I’m in Fargo, I use the local coffee shop, Atomic Cafe, as my office. So, I guess that people eventually start recognizing the guy in the dark business suit after spending several days in the area.
So, I’m standing out on the street corner waiting for my ride to take me to the wine tasting when someone across the intersection shouts in my direction…
“Hey!”
As Travis Bickle would respond, “Huh, are you talkin’ to me?”
“I want one!”
By this time, my attention was diverted and my eyes came into focus. A middle-aged man who appeared somewhat frazzled by his clothing and appearance started to approach me.
“You want one — what,” I asked, genuinely curious as to what in the hell he was talking about.
“I want a Bible!”
Again, as Travis Bickle would respond, “Huh, are you talkin’ to ME?” He’s obviously not a reader of this website. I wonder if Christopher Hitchens ever fielded that question?
“Um sorry, but I think you must have me confused with someone else,” I replied.
“What! Aren’t you out here doing missionary work giving away Bibles?” the man asked. “I want a Bible!”
Of all the things in the universe this man could possibly ask me and request, a Bible is probably the last thing I’d be carrying on my person. There’s a better chance I’m carrying a million dollars in cash on a street corner in Fargo, North Dakota than a Bible. There’s a better chance I’d be passing out “Donald Trump for President” bumper stickers, than that.
“Sorry man, I don’t know what to tell you, but I’m all out of Bibles.”
The man who by this time had come within just a few feet of me became utterly devastated. I wasn’t quite sure what to make of him. Homeless? Maybe. A religious nut? Perhaps. Maybe he just wanted a Bible for kindling to light on fire so he could keep warm in the winter. I had no idea why he wanted a Bible from me.
“Uh, what exactly makes you think I have a Bible,” I asked.
“I see you. You’ve been out here on the streets all week out here in a suit, and I just figured you must be a Christian handing out Bibles.”
I felt like Babe Ruth in his prime staring at a slow pitch in Yankee Stadium. Either that or someone really clever was goofing me with a gag.
Once I realized this wasn’t a joke, I passed on what seemed like a golden opportunity to destroy the man’s religious convictions, like a sledgehammer pummeling a soft overly ripened melon rotting out in the sun, which would have been so easy and convenient to do by announcing my secular-humanist affiliation and repudiation of religious fraud and fantasy. I came to the conclusion quickly that there is indeed a time and place for religious and spiritual discourse, but this was most certainly not it. I still wasn’t sure if he was homeless or perhaps just curious and seeking out conversation with a stranger. No matter. He wasn’t rude. He didn’t ask me for money. He seemed to have good intentions. For whatever reason, he might have even thought religious faith manifested in reading a few passages from a book I believe to be a complete work of fiction might somehow give him the strength to get through another day. Hey, if reading a chapter of “Alice in Wonderland” motivates you to do something positive, then be my guest and have at it. My place wasn’t to parrot the dogma of my own belief system, by crushing someone else’s.
Still, looking back now — that’s one question I’ve never been asked before and don’t expect to happen again — which is, “May I please have a Bible?”
I don’t know whether I did something good or not by withholding my strong personal convictions. But I couldn’t resist telling the man he might possibly find a Bible only a few short blocks away. Since the anti-abortion protesters were picketing the women’s clinic just around the corner, that seemed the best place to send him on his holy quest.
One thing’s for certain. You never know what might happen when you visit Fargo. I can’t wait to go back again (next spring).
whereas i’ve never been to fargo, i’ve spent time in grand forks and bizmark and frankly, these are some of the nicest, most genuine people i’ve ever met. i was there in january for some college hockey and the temperature dipped to a balmy 25 below. as we’re driving home from the game we pass a guy walking on the side of the road. thinking he’s out of gas or in trouble we ask if we wants a ride. his response? “just out for a stroll. beautiful night, don’t you think?”
We do have free will.