Back to my roots, Kansas City trip Day 1, part one:


I started the day off with a wet slobbery kiss from my doggie Shaq.
A few minutes of the news while I ate my reduced sugar frosted flakes, soon Rachel and I were off to (Maggie can guess) the local 24 hour fitness to get our sweat on.

We head back, quickly shower and dress to join our dad at the culinary (even religious) mecca of Kansas City, the world famous bbq joint Gates BBQ.
Its fucking good, affordable, and downright delicious. $30 dollars of bbq is alot, and my dad, rachel(yes, a vegetarian) and I ate it all.

you see, a trip to Gates starts off with the always friendly cashier yelling out "Hi, may I help you?" you had better know what you want to order, unless you want to make her angry. she'll take the order of the person behind you if you aren't ready.



one of the most popular choices is "burnt ends on bun", its as fun to eat as it is to say.


we get short ribs, a combo & a half sandwich (huge bbq beef and pork slathered in sauce, between three pieces of white bread), beans, potato salad, and fries. we also had copious amounts of gates spicy, sweet, and original sauces for dipping. If I was not as hungry as I was, I might have taken a picture of the sandwich in its entirety.

here's my dad Jim, ordering




oh my, here's rachel eating a rib. don't call the veggie police.



after gallons of sauce, napkins, even some good old heated political debate, we were done.

before we headed back to the 'burbs, we decided to give rachel a little tour of our family history.

the part of KC were gates bbq is and were we first lived, is your typical transitional ethnic neighborhood.

when we lived there, it was an italian neighborhood, complete with red white and green fire hydrants ( when i moved to the burbs with their black and yellow hydrants, I was confused).
the italians left, leaving way for the african american community, then the latinos, and now the vietnamese. while the building stay the same, the people and the languages do change.

I noticed alot of vietnamese and african people in the neighborhood when I drove through.

here's our family's first home, we got robbed 3 times, but I don't think my dad has ever been more proud of a home than this one. when he gets depressed he often visits here, to see where we came from. I need to do that more often.



the porch use to be screened in and the paint was a bright white when I lived there.
but, the door was the same. so was the fence. I use to play in a sand box right under that first window you see, next to a parked manual lawn mower (that also got stolen)

apparently, the dry cleaners up the street from us always had a witty quote, and my mom would make me read it every time we went by. that board basically taught me how to read.
today, the sign read "in the race for quality, there is no finish line".

we drove by the hospital where my parents met, the church where they were married and where i was baptized. I was too caught up in the moment to take a picture.

what a trip, what a first day.
tonight: the honky tonk supper club with rex hobart at the record bar. more things to come, more memories to share..  ¶ 4/11/2006 03:15:00 PM