A Small Bout of Accidental Watch Theft
Oct 16, 2025 · 6 minute read“You are the last honest man in this country. But with that wonderful accent, you’re not from around here, are you?”
What happened was this: the weekend before going to Minneapolis, I discovered that there was a Swatch shop in the Mall of America, and that they took online reservations for pick-up. And earlier in the week, I’d discovered that Swatch had just released a reimagining of the 1988 watch, Flumotions. As I was going to be there anyway, why not pick one up?
On Monday, I sauntered into the shop, got served by somebody who was still being taught the ropes by a more senior person, and was handed the watch. They were also both curious about the vintage Swatch watch I was wearing. Anyway, off I went. “Have a great day!” I got on the train. And the doubts set in. I went through my emails from the weekend and re-read them. Plain as day: “This is not a purchase. You’ll pay when you pick the watch up.” But they had just given it to me and sent me on my way.
When I finally got checked into the hotel, I gave the shop a ring:
“Erm…so I was in your shop a couple of hours ago and picked up a watch?”
“Oh, yes! The British guy in the red shirt? Is thee something wrong with the watch?”
“Well, no. It’s just that I think I haven’t paid for it.”
“I’ll…just have a chat with my manager…can I call you back?”
So that’s how I ended up going back to the Mall of America Wednesday night to make sure nobody got into any trouble. Watch purchased. Praise given. Leaving, face red with embarrassment. But at least everything got sorted in the end.
Anyway, the Mall. The largest in the Western Hemisphere! And…it’s alright. Despite the 2000s upgrade it has clearly received, with all the supports and cladding coated in high-gloss white (look at the difference between pictures from the 1990s and 2015 onwards), the overall feeling of being in MoA is that you have stepped into a time warp and somehow ended up back in the mid to late 90s. Hanson, TLC, and En Vogue are piped overhead as you wander past Barnes & Noble and Francesca’s and get lunch at the Rainforest Café, right next to the Food Court. It’s like a world trapped in the End of History; everything in a time bubble and you can just go on SpongeBob rides without having to deal with the real world.
Of course, the picture of this reality is broken with it being a Pepsi Mall, a sure sign that this is just a cruel, twisted fantasy. But, I did appreciate that when I walked into the mall from the transit centre, the first thing I saw was a stage just outside the main atrium. Reader, I did look for the Kid On The Escalator.
If the Mall was not exactly what I was after, then another part of Minneapolis was. I’d even forgotten it, really, until the train through the centre reminded me of what I was missing.
Minneapolis is home to the largest enclosed skywalk — not just in North America, not just the Western Hemisphere, but the entire world. 10 miles of it cross-crossing the city centre. And it is absolutely glorious. I haven’t had as much fun since I last wandered around the Barbican for an entire day1. Like the Mall, it is something of its Time. But as bits of it were built at different times, that is not so bad! One moment you’re wandering around a tiny corridor that last saw a new carpet in the mid-90s and now resembles liminal Adam Curtis b-roll footage, the next you wander into Wells Fargo, with their idea of “would you like to pretend you’re in a New York bank from 1923? We’ve got you covered.” Yes, it does default to “corporate late 80s/mid 90s” — many of the skyways enter into banks or big business atriums. But while MoA made me just feel weird, the “Nakatomi Plaza” feel was apparently just what I was looking for.
So, yes, it’s very much the usual problematic American “public/private” mix, with the skyway connections being owned and operated by the containing buildings, resulting in a system that is only really navigable during business hours, but my goodness, you need to step into Government Center. Is it a building that you’d go into normally? Of course not! As a station along the skyway, though, you transit through it, expecting…well, not a lot, and it’s just amazing. The building is bi-sected with a central atrium that allows you to see both exposed sides, all the way up to the 24th floor. I stopped in the middle just staring upwards for a good couple of minutes. Butler Square is completely different — late 70s construction, but instead of glass and steel, it’s all exposed timber from the old Butler Brothers warehouse, making it feel more like an Ewok Village or something from Expo ‘67, right next to Target Center and Target Field (which of course both have red skyways). The different amounts of care that parts of the system has is also a strength — because yes, you do get bits that have the same set of chains over and over again, but in other, more run-down spaces, you get watch repairs, Korean egg sandwiches, and other little delights. I hear that before the pandemic it was a little more lively, and there’s plenty of empty shopfronts as you go around, but I will say that it never felt empty in any of my travels during the week.
One morning, I walked to the work with “This Is What She’s Like” playing. It was transcendental. Walking across the skyway, looking left and right, seeing parallel skyways either side, repeating into the distance, with people walking in time with the beat. In time, in time
So, er, yeah. My love of the skyways was hilariously over-the-top, and apparently infectious, to the extent that on Wednesday, I led an _expedition of co-workers from breakfast to the workplace. I just love a completely different way to see a city. Streets in the sky were always a good idea, and we were absolute fools to have been talked out of them.
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This translates to “a really good time” ↩︎