end·less /ˈɛndlɪs/
–adjective
1. having or seeming to have no end, limit, or conclusion; boundless; infinite; interminable; incessant: an endless series of complaints; Time is endless.
2. made continuous, as by joining the two ends of a single length: an endless chain or belt.

Over the past year, I’ve been spending a lot of quality time at the big ol’ G. At the risk of exposing how empty and trivial my internal mental life is, I feel compelled to address one of the Guthrie’s most discussed architectural gimmicks, the so-called Endless Bridge. The Guthrie’s website says, “One of the signature features of the new Guthrie, the cantilevered lobby known as the ‘Endless Bridge’ is an observatory for the Mississippi River falls and landscape.”

Up front, I want to say that I like the Guthrie, and that I have no disdain for the appendage itself. It’s fine engineering, and it’s a damn pretty place to stand while you wait to be bored by a play. I do have an issue, however, with the name. I will point you once again to the definition of “endless” from dictionary.com, as posted above. “Having…no end,” or “made continuous.” Now, I submit this photo of the cantilever object in question:

The “bridge” does not extend into infinity, nor does it fold into itself like a moebius strip, but rather, it halts abruptly before reaching any destination. The name ”Destinationless Bridge” (which may be what they mean by “endless;” destination = end) would be more apropos, though admittedly not as marketable or signage-friendly.

In fact, this construct’s very nature hinges on the fact that it does have an end. In that it stops short of closing a gap as an actual bridge would do, it is intrinsically more ended than a normal bridge. It is super ended. It’s an “Aborted Bridge,” “Truncated Bridge,” or “Ended-Early Bridge,” and is the very antithesis of “endless.”

They could have called it the “Bridge to Nowhere,” but that’s taken already, and calls to mind the futility and spirit-breaking meaninglessness of life, which is kind of a bummer if you’re sucking down a gin and tonic before going to see Little House on the Prairie. Though not necessarily inaccurate.