It terrifies me to imagine that the 90s, the first decade I lived throughout the entirety of, are now considered nostalgic. I do not feel old. I am in fact incredibly handsome, and make tens of thousands of dollars a month laundering money through a free magazine scam that I came up with. I suppose it is time for all of us to treat the 90s with the reverence that any bygone era deserves, which we can do merrily at Ox Cart Arcade & Rooftop in St. Paul.
Black Coffee and Waffle Bar started out in Minneapolis in 2014, when it was cofounded by the owner of a now defunct coffee shop called Muddsuckers. It is worth noting that at some point he did a complete 180 when it came to naming his businesses. Black Coffee and Waffle Bar has done very well in Minneapolis owing primarily to two factors — you might guess what they are. They have done their namesakes so well, in fact, that they’ve just opened up their newest location in downtown Fargo.
When Karl Bednarchik’s busy print shop kept him away from home too often, he recruited Bonnie the chocolate Lab to keep him company. The happy dog did her job very well, for she loved Karl, but she was an active and willful animal. Karl decided that training could channel Bonnie’s exuberance a little more productively. Bonnie proved to be a challenging student. She flunked two of her first kindergarten classes, and although she made it to graduation she took it upon herself to run out the door during the ceremony.
Jill Weise counts herself lucky for getting kicked out of piano lessons when she was in fourth grade. The piano is not a bluegrass instrument, so it would not have helped her find her calling like the guitar she picked up afterward did. She would only play to herself until she volunteered at a bluegrass festival in Washburn, ND in 1990.
It took some work to convince my friend Mark to go to the Minnesota Renaissance Festival with me last year. His sole experience with renaissance festivals was limited to his teenage summer job at one in Florida, at which he grilled giant turkey legs. I finally assured him that our trip together wouldn’t expose him to temperatures hot enough to smelt iron ore, and so we were off.