Not that the world ground to a halt or anything, but it is somewhat wondrous as to what I’ve been up to the past couple of weeks – as opposed to, oh, writing say.
Well, I’ve been moving.
Moving simultaneously from both Kansas City and Topeka (yes, it’s true) to…LA. Or as most of you call it, Lawrence. You know, that little college burg just west of KC that pisses off MU and K-State types whenever I write about it.
So here’s the deal:
I fessed up earlier this summer and told you guys I got married and sold my house in Prairie Village. My wife works in T Town (Topeka) and the idea was, split the difference and get a place in Lawrence. I mean, LA.
Unfortunately – quite unfortunately I might add – my layover in Topeka while all the real estate mumbo jumbo was going down stretched out to more than three months. An excruciatingly long three-plus months.
I’ve been trapped in Topeka – commuting to KC at least three times a week – for like an eternity. A very serious, WTF happened eternity.
Now I’m going to share.
Everything you’ve heard about how lame Topeka is, well, it’s completely inaccurate.
It’s way effing worse – trust me.
There’s like 128,000 and change people living there. Including two of the strangest Kansans – Sam Brownback and wack “reverend,” Fred Phelps. And yes, I’m grouping them in the same sentence even though they have zero similarities outside of being incomprehensible.
Here’s the problem with Topeka – other than it’s location, climate, topography and complete lack of cultural amenities:
There’s very little to do other than overeat – which its populace excels at to the point of rendering every single “Fattest Cities” poll I’ve seen ridiculously inaccurate – raise a family, shop or eat at a low to mid-level chains and follow sports on television at places like, oh, you know, Hooters.
The trouble with Topeka is it’s too big to embrace the charm of a small town and too small for the amenities of an real city.
Example; there’s one movie theater there for all 128,000 people. One. Oh yeah, plus a “dollar” theater. The best Italian restaurant in town is Olive Garden – which I don’t remember eating at ever before moving to T Town.
Anyway, back to my lame excuse about not writing much the past couple weeks…
Things are still a little goosey – with all the unpacked boxes and the like – and god only knows where my mailbox key and just about anything else I really need to find went. But largely I’ve completed my escape and am living large in Lawrence (I went to Arizona, sports fans) so the fog is rapidly clearing.
Look for me to return to form (sorry Super Dave, I can’t afford to feed Brandon to you more than once or twice a week) and get back in action in KC (and LA).
You know, for the betterment of mankind.
Honestly, you don’t.
Next time you feel like teeing off about how bad things in Kansas City are…hold you tongue.