KC Masterpiece

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“I’m goin’ to Kansas City. Kansas City, here I come.”
– Fats Domino

 

 

National Lampoon’s Vacation. Planes, Trains and Automobiles. Ishtar. While it’s nearly impossible to compete with the best travel stories on offer, one more couldn’t hurt.

We suppose the beginning is the best place to start as any. We found ourselves between seasons. Summer was on the way. And we needed to get our batteries recharged.

A retreat was in order. But where? We consulted a map. There, smack-dab in the middle of the country, we landed on a spot: the Midwestern capital of live jazz, barbecue, strip steak and craft breweries.

That’s right. A long weekend in Kansas City.

Kansas City: World's Best Bar-B-Q

Why Kansas City? First, we’d never been there before. (Turns out it’s not in Kansas!) Second, we’d heard good things (the aforementioned live jazz, barbecue, strip steak and craft breweries). And last, it just so happened to be halfway between us and our partner in crime (and Bar Snacks interviewee) Terry Marks.

As luck would have it, he’d never been there either. Hot damn!

Our inauspicious introduction to the city began at the airport, which it seems was built by the crew who worked on the set for Inception. It was a Hotel California experience: You can deplane any time you like but you can never leave. The only way to collect luggage is through emergency exits. Once we arrived it soon became clear Elliot’s suitcase had not. When the helpful baggage claim agent mentioned the luggage should have arrived, we did not disagree.

We got around town via Uber and on foot. We discovered the doors at the airport have two different sets of numbers depending upon if you were standing on the sidewalk (waiting to be picked-up) or driving in a car (doing the picking-up). Abbott and Costello would have been jealous of the ten minute conversation Todd had with our driver.

We hung our hats in an up-and-coming neighborhood called Westside South (yeah, we were confused, too) inside an old power and light substation building. Great spot. Turns out it was close to coffee, beer, more beer and fireworks.

They say Kansas City is the City of Fountains. We saw one, but it was turned off. We also had a leak below our kitchen sink. That got turned off as well.

The word on the street is that Kansas City is a town for eaters. On that front it didn’t disappoint. The River Market District provided both delicious diner food and also fancier brunch food. With the tram clanging by, we browsed the flea market-like mix of records, back issues of MAD, old posters from bad movies and other used stuff some may consider collectible.

Before we go any further, we must tip our hat to the kind people of Kansas City. Welcoming. Incredibly nice. You know, Midwestern Nice without exception. When we shared we were vacationing and chose their town as our destination, they spoke to us as neighbors rather than tourists or three old dudes not worth their time. It could be that those in KC have mommas who raised them right. Or it could be that we three are so damn charming we disarm all those in our path and bring them into our fold with aplomb and ease. You decide. (Our money is on the first one.)

The Power and Light District gets all the downtown buzz. For our money, Union Station is a more interesting bet. A beautifully restored train station opened in 1914, it now houses a variety of attractions including one firmly in Todd’s cross hairs: The Model Train Gallery. While there, it dawned on us that, like Akeem and Semi in Coming to America, it was time to dress like locals. We bought souvenirs before heading over to the World War I Memorial to take in some incredible skyline views. (The restored Western Auto sign is a crowd pleaser.)

Speaking of crowd pleasers, it’s time to talk our two favorite “can’t miss” spots, one well-known, the other less so.

We made our way from our crash pad to the original Joe’s Barbecue, a set-up with a working gas station attached to it. Our favorite Uber driver of the trip, Russell Banks, gave us a lift and a lay of the land. Russell Banks is the MAN. Transplant from L.A. with all of the local knowledge you could ever need. We love Russell Banks, budding entrepreneur and man about town. Russell Banks should be mayor of Kansas City.

Vote for Russell Banks!!!

What were we talking about? Oh yes, Joe’s. Joe’s has a bar while you’re waiting in line to place your order. Smart. We followed them on Instagram to watch their in-restaurant counter change, but it didn’t. Disappointing. We then ordered a bunch of meats and sides which we gobbled up greedily. Delicious. Elliot recommends their signature sandwich, the Z-Man. Good report has it that the brisket does not disappoint, either. 

But the cherry on top of the whole trip was the Green Lady Lounge. Just when we thought life couldn’t get any better with our full stomachs, we decided it was time to fill our ears with local jazz. Damn. This downtown club hits all the right notes. We were able to plant ourselves right in front of the band and watched them work their magic. A couple of overzealous female Aussies provided additional entertainment for us, less so for the band. Then again, we don’t have drunk people slopping drinks out of half-full cocktail glasses over our vintage Hammond organ while we’re working. 

We finished our stay with a walk from downtown through the Crossroads District. Logging over four miles on foot, we poked our heads into a variety of neighborhood watering holes before finally settling on a cocktail bar that makes their own spirits. They also had some great art on display. Refreshed and ready for more exercise, we ended up wandering into the Technicolor wonderland that is Art Alley. Without Krylon at the ready, we may have left a sticker or two to add to the ambiance.

Todd adding a sticker to the pillar at Boulevard Brewing

Back in our rooms, Todd did a little dance—like a dog getting its ear scratched in just the right spot—when it finally dawned on him that Terry is stock photo famous. (This is in spite of the fact that Elliot has told Todd this story before. Multiple times.) While Elliot shook his head, Terry wove his backstory together to confirm his place on the Mount Rushmore of “Wait...I Know That Guy From Somewhere.”

At the end of the day, Kansas City delivered. Good food, great Uber drivers and the best company. We even found a machine at the airport that vends local art. The best part? Elliot did eventually get his luggage.

 

 

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