Kansas in July

There's no better way to prepare for a pre-dawn trip to Kansas than staying up late listening to rock n' roll bands in a bowling alley. Yes, that's right -- I planned to be on the road across the vast wastes of I-70 at 4am, and I didn't even get home until almost 11:30pm. If you know me, and know how much I value my sleep, you'll understand how...unusual this was.

Not the leaving town at 4am part; that's no big deal. But I don't usually stay out so late. And I will confess that in all my years upon this planet, I have never before attended a rock concert at a bowling alley. "Cosmic" bowling, sure -- you know, where they fill the place with acrid smoke, far-out black lights to make the balls glow, and bass-driven disco music that's supposed to entice you to drink more beer...I've done that (though it's tough to roll a very good game in the dark). But until Thursday night, I had never traveled to the Lanes for the express purpose of hearing a local band.

But this was "From the Mouth of Cthulhu", the group who has been hailed as "the next Led Zeppelin", and has been reviewed as having "better harmonies than John Travolta and Olivia Elton John". It's the band my son is in. And this was their second concert with their new material and their first show as the headlining group...so I wanted to see them perform, even if it meant staying up past my bedtime.


These gigs are always interesting, more so for the entertainment value of watching the teenagers mill about and practice the behaviors that make them think they're grown up. The Falcon Bowl was a much more fan-friendly venue than the Marquis Theater, where Cthulhu had last performed, and offered food & drink in addition to the opportunity to shoot pool, play Frogger, and bowl a few frames. The acoustics were better as well, and I could actually distinguish some of the music.

But I stayed outside for a good portion of the show. The first band was a "randomly pound on your instrument and scream loudly" type of group -- not really my thing. The second band was a little more tolerable, but by then I was getting tired and just wanted my kid to play. I had an interesting conversation with Steve Smith (my old buddy from Wichita Swim Club), who told me all about his latest business venture -- something to do with automated security systems to prevent commie terrorists from disrupting the independent package deliver industry -- but I'll confess that some of the details have been lost in the mental fog that inevitably accompanies late-night rock concerts.

Anyway, Cthulhu performed well, and we all enjoyed the show. (By the way, they've posted one of their new songs at http://profile.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=user.viewprofile&friendID=20208536.) But I was pretty well out of it by the time I got home.

You know how it is when you know you only have a couple of hours to sleep, so you put extra pressure on yourself to fall asleep right away, but of course, that added pressure keeps you awake. Ugh. I probably slept less than three hours. And then it was time to travel to Wichita.

As usual, I don't seem to be able to tell my tale with Jack Webb-ish taciturnity, but instead ramble about aimlessly, like Ben Affleck's career. Sorry. I'll try to speed things up.

Kansas = Boring. (How's that for succinctness?)

Actually, there are some highlights to the I-70 drive, which I may share with you at some point in the future: the "Boy, I wish I owned this franchise" crowds at the Limon McDonalds; the Giant Prairie Dog eternally guarding the outskirts of Oakley; and the puzzling mystery of the roadsigns that proclaim Wichita to be a shopping and cultural mecca (??!), to name a few. And within the last year or so, the scenic Flint Hills have blossomed with miles and miles of colossal wind turbines, hypnotically seducing the driver's eyes to focus on their leisurely motion instead of the road. (I suspect that they're really sentient carniverous beings who feast upon the carcasses of the unfortunates who drive themselves into the ditches. They must wait until it's dark before they uproot their giant underground paws and stroll over to the roadside to devour their victims. I bet you can hear the crunching noises for miles and miles across the prairie.)

These OSHA-snubbing devices appear to be the size of very large trees, but in fact are much bigger. A truck with a pair of the turbine blades happened to be parked at a gas station where we stopped, so I took a photo for perspective.

Whoa!

I wonder what it would sound like to stand next to one of them suckers as the blades spun around? (I also wonder if Nebraska is less windy now. It has to take some of the energy out of the breeze to turn those big blades; perhaps the good people of Omaha will no longer be able to fly their kites on weekends. Hmm.)

Anyway, upon arrival at my dad's house in Wichita, I found that they weren't at home. I sat down on the porch to read a bit, play my guitar, read a book, and eventually even fall asleep for a bit. Thanks to the shade and a nice breeze, I didn't entirely melt from the heat, but I was mighty glad when Dad and Judy showed up and let me into their house.

Judy had been painting all day, and was happy to get off her feet. My dad had been helping her, and was still recovering from a power tool accident that had required a couple dozen stitches in his middle finger. My sister wasn't due to arrive for several hours, so we were all happy to grab a take-out pizza and sit down for a nice family chat.

Cindy arrived a bit later, and we discussed the plans for the morrow. She and I were going to do some bookkeeping work for my dad, and also provide transportation or run errands for our hosts. Plans were settled, and shuteye obtained.

On Saturday morning, my plan was to run for somewhere around 10 miles. I had no specific route in mind; I was just going to leave the house with my GPS and see where my wanderlust took me. Fortunately, it was overcast with a slight drizzle, so I wasn't going to suffer too badly from the notorious Kansas heat.

Unfortunately, it was overcast with a slight drizzle, which gave me the confidence to head directly away from the house with no plans to turn back until I'd reached my halfway mileage. And because I was enjoying myself and enjoying the sights of the local neighborhood, I didn't really think much about it when the rain started coming down a little harder. And then a little harder, still.

Before I knew it, I was in the midst of a full-blown downpour, complete with adrenaline-jolting rips of lightning. I didn't mind getting my shirt and shorts wet, but as the street puddles got deeper and wider, it occured to me that I had only brought one pair of shoes on the trip. If they got too soaked, I'd never get them dry, even in the normal Kansas humidity.

The streets of Wichita are designed to create mini-lakes at every intersection during any kind of a rainstorm. I remember one time when I had to ride my motorcycle through water up to my knees...and it was just a regular street corner! It wasn't that deep yet, but if I wanted to get back with dry shoes, I'd have to do a lot of hopping up onto the curb and leaping over rivulets as I headed back to the house. What had begun as a distance run had somehow morphed into a steeplechase.

Despite my best efforts, my shoes were indeed soaked by the time I got back to the house. Oh well. I didn't really need to wear them for the rest of the weekend -- no big deal.

The rest of the trip was spent in my dad's office, doing computer input (which kept me up until 11:30 at night -- another journey into brain-damaging sleep-deprivation). Cindy and I did take a short side trip to transport Judy to her hair appointment and to go visit my sister's mother-in-law, Blanche. Otherwise, we all shared stories about our recent adventures (Cindy had hurt her ankle during a raft trip down the Grand Canyon, for example), and discussed our plans for the rest of the summer. It wasn't exactly an exciting visit, but it was time well spent, and I think everyone was glad we had the chance to get together.

But it's always good to come home, too. My shoes are finally dry, and I can now try to catch up on my sleep. If you want more details about the swell things you can experience in Wichita (ie, Dog n' Shake, the Brownstone Grill, armpit-staining humidity, etc.), let me know and I'll be happy to fill you in. In the meantime, have a great day!