I live with two guys, David and Tim. They’re both History majors – that’s not an important part of this story. What is important is that David hails from Kansas City, Missouri (There is a KC, Kansas but it’s across the river and sort of a ghetto).
Dave, being the stellar guy he is, said he’d show me around a bit. And two weekends ago I took him up on it. I know, I know, the two weekends ago turnaround seems a bit long. In my defense, I spent last weekend having fun (“fun”) with the Army and all the weekdays in between aceing mid-term after mid-term (“aceing”).
It was pretty quick trip, but I’ve always been told that it’s not how long your trip is, it’s how you use what you’ve got (“told”). Besides, any trip that you don’t have to spend the nights sleeping in your truck is a good trip.
The Nelson Atkins museum – one of America’s premier art institutes – was pretty neat-o. I’ve always had a thing for realism, so I checked out some of what I’m told are the greatest realism exhibits ever. I don’t say that to try win any Mr. Culture award, though – after the art, we went straight outside and jumped over the hedge-rows.
Of course, we were pretty hungry after all that, so we dropped in on a Steak and Shake, one of America’s premier dinning establishments. It’s a 50’s style dinner, and it’s delicious. After that, it was off to Union Station (made famous by the Kansas City Massacre of 1933) and the Liberty Memorial, KC’s two biggest touristy attractions.
Dave’s got a sister, though, and she’s a pretty good dancer, so we headed across town to see the State dance competition. I hate to be so brief, but her team took state. The next morning was a blur – I remember church, eating some great homemade lasagna, and then making our way back to Kirksville.
I’m still amazed at how much we fit in with what little time we had. And that was with all the best stuff off-limits, anyway. Kay Sea’s supposed to be the epicenter of real blues (to get any more authentic you’d have to go trouncing around the swamps and backwoods). And all that blues stuff is in bars and I’m not 21 (until next Thursday and I’m not even joking).
Which is ironic. As it is now, I only really drink, on average, around five weekends a month. Ha, ha. The follow-up joke being, of course, that the weekend starts on Wednesday. You’ve got to see the irony, though – I still get a kick out driving my mother up the wall, even though I’m days away from being legally recognized as a full-fledged adult. I guess I’ll never grow quite that far up.
the Honorable Venustiano Carranza (President of Mexico)
KC pics and
a column on profanity
and another column on manliness
and another on the University Baker
also, pics from the Saturday that I dressed up as the school mascot for the Admissions Office: SpikePics