I’m on my first visit to Kansas City, Kansas City here I come. They got a crazy way of loving there and I’m gonna get me some.
Whoa, I know this is the next best thing to a family newspaper and I shouldn’t be talking like that, but I cannot get that 1950s hit song out of my mind. I wonder if the tune, the city’s official song, is constantly playing in the back of the heads of Kansas Citians. Like elevator music that’s always there. Or like those of us Great Lakers who can hear the sounds of waves rolling in, even when we’re a thousand miles from the shore.
Anyway, the trip so far has been a great adventure starting with a 2-1/2 hour delay at Detroit Metro airport due to mechanical problems. The main thing is, we arrived safely in Kansas City where I was met by a limo driver with my name on a sign. I was treated to a cushy ride from the airport, which was very nice until mechanical problems required that the driver pull off the road in a Kansas City suburb for what only seemed like a 2-1/2 hour delay at a Cracker Barrel restaurant.
After 5 minutes of browsing the Chihuahua figurines dressed in poodle skirts and “Welcome to the Lake” signs (is there a lake in Kansas City?) I started thinking that, transportation wise, this trip was jinxed. Next time, I sang to myself (the limo driver doesn’t get paid enough to hear my voice):
Well I might take a train
I might take a plane, but if I have to walk
I’m gonna get there just the same
I’m going to Kansas City, Kansas City here I come…
I’m sure the rest of the stay will be wonderful, whether or not I find a Kansas City baby and a bottle of Kansas City wine (that’s not me, it’s the lyrics talking, really).
I can’t help but think it’s much safer and saner to have the sound of the waves sloshing around my brain.