Monday, September 12, 2005

Kansas City here we come

This all occurred a week ago but I felt it was still worth talking about …

We had to leave Minneapolis at 5 in the morning in order to get to Kansas City for a day game. This was the first time on the trip we had to start driving so early it was dark. I drove through one of, if not the worst, storms we have seen on the trip. There was hale the size of golf balls and lighting flashed several times a minute. At one point I saw a bolt of lighting hit a hill on the other side of the freeway. The thunder that followed sounded like a propane truck exploded and it shook the windows of the van. Time to get out of Minnesota.

We stopped for gas in Iowa where 89 octane fuel is actually cheaper than 87 octane fuel. Can you figure out why? The place we stopped for gas was called the Kum n’ Go. I’m not making this up.

We rolled into KC a little before game time and headed straight to the Veneble household. Eric Veneble has pretty much been our silent partner on this trip hooking us up with places to stay, scoring us tickets, and about 3 years ago he was the man who gave me the idea to write the teams to try and get tickets from them. He came to play.

Eric drove to the game, which was a delight, and he picked up his boy Marshell who joined us for the Royals game. Marshell, I believe, is the biggest Royals fan in the world. He actually knows that this team exists whereas most of Kansas City and the world have completely forgotten that a baseball team plays in KC. The highlight of the game, I must say, was when the Royals’ pitcher was in trouble and their pitching coach came out to talk to him about it. Why was this the highlight? Because the pitching coach for the Kansas City Royals is none other than Orel Hershiser. Marshell and I were going nuts, yelling at him, cheering for him, hoping he would give us a wave – and you know what, after his second trip out there we got a little nod from the Bulldog. The MVP of the 1988 World Series gave us a nod. That is the magic of this road trip.

It is important to note that the only reason we got said nod was that Veneble hooked us up with seats only a few rows behind home plate – ridiculous. Another highlight of the game (yeah, multiple highlights at the Royals game) was that the Royals, who boast the worst record in baseball, scored 17 runs and had over 12 hits. Any time the Royals get 12 hits everyone in attendance gets 12 free Krispy Kreme donuts! Breakfast, lunch, and dinner for the next couple of days. Plus, any extras we might have we can just shove into our gas tank – I heard that if road conditions are just right it is possible to get 20 miles per donut, not too shabby.

After the game Eric took us to George Brett’s restaurant. It was there that we witnessed the poorest attempt of parallel parking in the post World War II era. Just outside our window was a vacant street spot about 30 feet long. A man, he was a man, in a Dodge Stratus drove up. Now, the Stratus is not the ‘economy size’ car, but it isn’t exactly an Escalade either. Geoff watched him try and go in head first for about 2 minutes before he pointed it out to Eric and me. By the time I began watching he had his wife or sister (not his girlfriend, because no women without a wedding ring would stay with a man with full function in all limbs that was this bad at operating a motor vehicle) out on the curb directing him. She wasn’t helping him at all. Seven minutes have passed since he started, I’m not making this up. He is now in the spot, but about 28 inches off the curb. He gets out to inspect and stands on the curb next to his wife or sister. Both stand with their hands on their hips and look confused and stare, speechless, at the car and then at the curb, and then back to the car. By now the three other tables in our section are watching this scene. A girl is even on her cell phone giving a play by play. Just as we all thought he was going to accept the parking job he hops back into the Stratus and makes a hard left and whips out of there. Defeat. Failure. The restaurant erupts in laughter and cheers.

Eric got us some beer pint glasses with George Brett’s signature on them but telling the manager about our road trip. That was it. No money was exchange, he never even asked for anything, he just told the manager how much we love baseball and we came back with the glasses. Veneble is like a superhero and his special power is getting things out of people without being a beggar or mooch. It is really a sight to see.

Later in the day we enjoyed some tasty Kansas City BBQ served to us by the sleaziest guy in the Midwest. All the parents out there heed my warning, do not send your daughters to Kansas University – trust me, it is just not worth it.

Following dinner we had some frozen custard. I know, it sounds disgusting. At first I thought I would rather have soy bean yogurt but I was wrong, frozen custard is delicious. And, to my surprise, it isn’t chunky or anything. Completely edible.

We closed the night out by sitting in Eric’s backyard smoking cigars and trading stories. It was a beautifully warm Midwest night. It was simply perfect, there was no place in the world I’d rather be.

In the morning Pam, Eric’s wife, cooked us a tasty breakfast and loaded us up with snacks for the road. In case you couldn’t figure it out, the Venebles were absurdly nice hosts. They single-handedly made us enjoy Kansas City. Plus, even though he is a Giants fan, it was really nice to see a friend who I haven’t had the chance to hang out with in over a year.

1 Comments:

At 9:08 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

thanks for letting me hang... and remember guys... do not send your daughters to Kansas U. The boys run a bit loose... but you get a few beers in you and they start to look a whole lot better.

interesting parallel. you boys set a "goal" when you were around 18.. save money for a number of years... live the dream of seeing every MLB ball park. Then I met A "waiter" who set a lofty goal around the same time in his life... both came true.

the diference is.. His blog sucks! your story rocks...and your children and grandchildren will hear your tales and dare to do the same. (He will sadly... end up all alone... eating at Casa Bonita, living his dream)


you had me at "are you ready to rock"

 

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