I was that kid.

You know, that one. I wore standard jeans a t-shirt with some old basketball shoes to class in high school, every, single, day. It never changed. As a Senior I tried to spice it up with a  button up shirt, unbuttoned, with some good ‘Jesus’ shirt underneath [for the record: to those who sport the shirt that reads "I broke a rule. I prayed in school." You didn't break a rule, it isn't unconstitutional, and it isn't illegal. For the love of all things good and holy, please stop wearing that shirt].

It basically amounted to this, I wasn’t trendy, and I wasn’t chic. More and more over it ended with this; I was a hick.

Understand that it wasn’t directed towards four wheel drive, muddy trucks, and country music…ugh…The concept was merely the belief and idea that I am indeed from a rural background, and have spent most of my life among trucks, corn, and cows. I didn’t wear w[st]ranglers to class, and I wasn’t part of the FFA. I didn’t ride dirt bikes, ATV’s, or horses; I walked. I’m not a giant fan of deer hunting, but I partake in it for the sake of hating to pay prices for beef. It’s where I grew up, but it wasn’t necessarily who I was.

When I entered college I dated a young woman from South County St. Louis [in reference to the geographical area divided up of one, St. Louis county]. She was very sweet, and for my first girlfriend; I did pretty well. However, as we were together one thing continued to change. My wardrobe. She understood, the best she could, that I was from the sticks. On the same token though, I had to visit her frequently; meaning trips along I-70 and I-44 into St. Louis. A terrifying experience for anyone that has dared the drive from either side. She would take me shopping, to Cardinal’s games, outdoor theaters, and a Italian themed demographic neighborhood referred to as “The Hill”. As time progressed, as do my wardrobe [this is where I discovered my uncanny taste towards Izod Polo's], I started to realize the big city wasn’t that bad. Yes, to this day I am still not a fan of St. Louis itself, but an urban concept isn’t unreal.

Between those years and now I’ve subjected to my hometown [1,538], my college town [9,000], the town I coached in [600], and the town I was going to teach in [200]. As you can see, the numbers aren’t exactly in the favor of growth. That’s when I took my current job with Subway. These loons that I work for enjoyed the notion that I was from a small town, so I better understand business planning for rural development. However, it also meant that I would need to adapt because whether I wanted to or not, they were sending me into our stores in the metroplex known as “Kansas City: So good one state can’t handle it”.

As the months have gone by, as have the lattes, I’ve discovered much about Kansas City. From the wonderful spa location in Lee’s Summit, Missouri on the southeast side of the area, to the insanity that traffic between 291, 152, and I-35 in Liberty, Missouri across to The Legends and Livestrong Sporting Park [where I'll be tonight], south to the richest county in the United States; Johnson County, Kansas; to finally the towers, coffee, suits and ties that make up the heart of downtown Kansas City. I’ve seen a gun flashed at me, hit us for bus fare, I’ve talked to businessmen, and have even found myself in the regional headquarters of Google. The Kansas City Shock is based in the city, and due to this I’m all things soccer all the time the city of fountains [most fountains in a city in the world minus Venice, Italy; plus the largest privately owner continues fountain in the world]. Last evening my girlfriend and I had our weekly date night. It consisted of the standard; Starbucks, and an introduction for her: Oklahoma Joe’s BBQ. It is no secret that Kansas City, as a cow town, prides itself on its BBQ and OK Joe’s is one of the best of the best. I’ve witnessed it a handful of times, and my girlfriend, who is from St. Joseph to the north hadn’t been there before. Of course she loved it [you can't turn away good BBQ].

The night was spent in Kansas City. In Johnson County, far removed from our lives where we currently exist. We took our time laughing and carrying on while working on fries, ‘The Z-Man”, and some heavenly sauce. Afterwards we washed it down with Americano’s [best I've had from a Starbucks], and whatever she drinks [she works there, so her drink is quite special], and just sat outside for what felt like hours just talking about everything imaginable.

We went over my ex-wife, the grudges I have, the reminder from my girlfriend that I’ve got to eventually forgive [emphasis on eventually]. We hit hard topics, like reasons my marriage failed, and what mistakes I made and what I learned from it. We talked growth spiritually, the moves taking place in MoVal for her, and just what our future could be. I spoke on my distaste of white picket fences, two story homes, and 2.3 kids. Dreamed of salaries, raises, IRS, and other financial entertainment. We were a couple. A young couple just dreaming about the future.

While the Starbucks along 119th and I-35 started to close, we hopped in the car and started to drive back through the metro area to get to the other rural side of things [to the north]. She spoke while I turned onto the ramp, “You know, we should just stay the night in Kansas City. Nice hotel, and just enjoy the comforts of the city.”

It was at that point, while enjoying the evening, looking towards the future, and understanding where we were, that I, the kid who once were jeans, t-shirts, and basketball shoes, in my khaki’s, dress shoes, and Real Madrid jersey simply stated that the more and more we’re living the more and more we’re quickly falling in love with this city. We’re not urban yuppies, but similar to the Kansas City Shock, and all other comfortable positions I’ve locked myself into, Kansas City each day feels a little more like home.

-D-

P.S. I would have photos from last night to share, but due to the ‘no-technology’ rule that we’ve both implemented on ourselves, photos don’t take place.