Advertisement
Published: August 19th 2008
Edit Blog Post
Farewells
Don't tell anyone, but they went to University of Tennessee Day 6: Into the Void... Ahh, Kansas. You Great Plains fever dream. You Valhalla. You Elysian Fields. A state that takes flat and boring and makes it... well... Ahh, Kansas.
Well, after a lengthy war council, Jessica and I decided that her life-threatening illness was no reason to stop and rest so we packed up our bags, stuffed her I.V. trolley into the back seat, and hopped back onto I-70. Her initial coughing jag lasted the entire state of Missouri, but by the time we hit Kansas City she was unconscious and blissfully quiet. Being the inveterate ChowHounder that I am, we had already scoped out a place for lunch. Arthur Bryant's, a Kansas City ribs institution for nigh on 70 years. The ChowHound raves cautioned, however, that this was an authentic "joint" and that "white people" might be more comfortable in a suburban setting. (I leave it up to you to figure out what it means to put "white people" in quotes.) Of course, this only made it more alluring for me. I'm always looking for ways to demonstrate how attuned I am to the folkways of the African-American people. So, in preparation for the visit, I donned
Still Stoned
Jessica cannot sleep off the Tab-Bong my ceremonial Yoruba marriage robe and memorized not one, not two, but three different Maya Angelou poems. Check and mate.
The restaurant did not disappoint. A nondescript brick building in what seemed to be an abandoned industrial district, it looked much the same as it must have in 1954. Sadly, there was a line of "white people" snaking out the front door and down the street--though it was 3:00 in the afternoon. Inside, the line continued winding its way to the penitentiary-style cafeteria windows at the back of the room. Packs of diners, their faces smeared in AB's Original BBQ sauce, gathered around monstrous piles of ribs, dropping their mouths to the meat like so many hyenas around the ass end of a Serengeti water buffalo.
I.V. in tow, Jessica elbowed her way to the tiny order windows at the back of the restaurant and demanded a very un-convalescent pulled pork sandwich (on Wonder Bread!), a tub of baked beans, and a full order of house fries. I suggested that we might just as easily hook her I.V. up to a five-gallon bucket of Olestra and mayonaisse, but she ignored me. Already, the hyena gleam was in her
Still Stoned
Percy's contact high sticks around as well eyes. I took a different approach: I began my order by greeting the somewhat surly employee behind the window with a traditional Borgawa forehead tap. Although initially nonplussed, I could tell from his teeth-gritting that he respected the effort. Next, I began an Edo birth ululation while pointing at the other customers. Unfortunately, at this point several rather heavyset men appeared from a side door I had not previously noticed. They carried me bodily out of the restaurant and deposited me in an alley dumpster. On the upside, I ended up covered in AB's Original BBQ sauce so I can vouch for its spicy aplomb.
After Kansas City, we made a beeline to Topeka. What's that you say? Never spent any time in Topeka? Well, I pity you. They have some of the cleanest, best lit, most deserted streets I have seen this side of White Horse, Canada. More importantly, the guidebooks informed us that the State Capitol building contained a celebrated mural of abolitionist and badass, John Brown. As you all know, John Brown is something of a model for me, both ifor his moral compass and for his facial hair. So we roared up to the building
Moments Before I Put On My Yoruba Robe
Check out the secret doorway... "Say Friend and Enter" at 5:05 PM, Saturday evening. Alas, the building closes at 5. Ever resourceful, however, I spied a telephone to the right of the main entrance. I picked it up and dialed "0". A sultry female voice answered and I knew, instinctively, that if I leveraged my considerable masculine charms, I could have the doors opened in short order.
"Capitol Police. How can I help you?"
"You already have, chica."
"Pardon me?"
"I say, you already have. Just hearing your husky voice has made my day."
"Sir, is there something you need. This is a dedicated line."
"I need to know when you get off work. That's all I need."
"Again. This phone is for emergencies. Please hang up if you don't have an emergency."
"Oh, I've got an emergency all right..."
Let's delicately draw the curtain on this saucy badinage and fast forward a bit. We actually managed to get a security guard to let us in the building. He was an ex-police officer responsible for the night shift at the capitol and he was only too happy to show us around the entire building. Not only did we see the aforementioned murals, he let us into the
A Little Scribbling
While waiting in line for AB's, I doodled some drawings on an alley wall. Enjoy. Senate and House chambers, showed us Governor Kathleen Sebelius's ceremonial office ("Yes, there's another working office, but I'm not showing you where it is."), and lectured for a good 22 minutes on the virtues of the restored marble molding and wrought iron balustrades. Bloody Kansas, indeed.
After Percy relieved herself on the Capitol lawn, we were back on the road. This time to Manhattan, Kansas. And really, I think I've said all I need to say about Manhattan, Kansas. The hotels in Manhattan, though more affordable than their NYC analogues, were also surprisingly all full--something to do with a chicken-broil-slash-soccer-tournament. Turned away from one inn after another, your weary travelers were forced to take shelter in a methadone clinic masquerading as a Best Western in the delightful monstrosity that is Junction City, KS. Informed that there were no rooms left but the "jacuzzi suite," I happily plopped down the MasterCard and prepared myself for an evening of quiet relaxation, gentle water massage, and vending machine beer nuts. Alas, it was not to be. After shouldering our way through a band of Virginia Slim-smoking ne'er-do-wells, we piled into the "jacuzzi suite." I'll let the pictures convey the majesty. What they
won't convey is the euphonic beauty of slamming doors, rushing water pipes, barking dogs ("Percy! I swear to God if you don't shut up..."), coughing wives, blaring tractor trailers, and some sort of air raid siren and klieg light combo designed to alert local shoppers to the once-in-lifetime bargains suddenly available at the WalMart across the street. Ahh, Kansas.
Advertisement
Tot: 0.166s; Tpl: 0.025s; cc: 6; qc: 46; dbt: 0.0393s; 1; m:domysql w:travelblog (10.17.0.13); sld: 1;
; mem: 1.2mb
Rod
non-member comment
ribs and jacuzzis
Wow, Kansas seems to have lived up to its reputation as a state filled with beautiful scenery, exciting opportunities, and half-finished construction... Don't worry, the second half is so much better than the first. They have wheat...