When even the smallest things get out of line, Midwesterners get uncomfortable. Maybe that’s because agriculture depends on normalcy. The plots of land are square and the seeds are planted in neat rows and the weather better do what it’s supposed to when it’s supposed to do it. This same mindset applies to food, movies, cars, clothes, people. Anything that strays from normalcy is different, the preferred synonym for weird. Brie cheese—which isn’t yellow and has some funk to it—is different. Your cousin Andy—who goes to art school and has purple hair and a nose ring—is different. Hoverboards, Pomeranians, Teslas, bacon-infused beer, sleeve tats, open workspaces, experimental theater, the Walker Art Center, turning your lawn into a prairie—all kinds of different.