Two years ago, my sister and I had the perfect day: we got Starbucks and Winchell’s for breakfast, then drove to Kansas City. We went to this giant outdoor mall complete with a Banana Republic and Gap outlet. We found clothes for each other and went over the allowed items limit in the dressing rooms. Then we went to Worlds of Fun for a few hours where there we no lines and we could get right back on the same roller coaster we got off of within three minutes. There was that definite fall nip in the air and everyone else was at home raking leaves or watching football. We talked and laughed on the way back home: it was carefree and adventurous.
Recently (ok, always) I’ve been wanting to get away. I’m a person who feels a definite need to separate myself from my daily routine every so often. I need to get out of the house, get out of the city, not think about work or chores. It is when I do something different that I feel alive. That is when I think and am inspired to write. All of my writing was written on airplanes, a weekend, or on a weekday off of work. On any normal day, I work and workout and eat dinner and read and go to bed at a reasonable time so I can do it again tomorrow.
I’ve been dying to have that perfect day back. In an attempt to recreate it, Steve and I drove to Kansas City yesterday after stopping at Winchell’s and Starbucks. We got to the mall and Steve sat in the bar while I hurried through Gap and Banana Republic so he wouldn’t have to wait too long. We arrived at Worlds of Fun where the perfect weather had brought out what seemed to be all the residents of Missouri, Kansas, Iowa, and Nebraska. Your thirty second thrill ride would cost you an hour of standing in line.
The first ride, we finally made it through the line and were harnessed into the car when the ride operator told us they needed to shut it down and we wouldn’t be able to ride it. I got thirsty, but stepped out of the concession line after fifteen minutes of not moving a step and being talked to by some lonely old man with a copious amount of nose hair.We only went on three rides. We decided the third one would be our last because battling crowds was the last thing two crotchety homebodies want to deal with.
The final ride was the thrill I had been waiting for all day. I was literally drooling while we whipped around the loops and turns in the front row with only the air beneath my feet. It whipped us so quickly that Steve lost a contact. Not ten miles into the drive home, he ran over something in the road and I demanded he pull over and let me drive.
The whole ordeal wore us out. We came home and jumped in our giant bed and slept. We could have slept forever if football didn’t exist. I did get away yesterday: I bought some usually overpriced clothes at somewhat reasonable prices. I got my thrill, although this time only one and it took four hours. But the memorable part of yesterday will not lie in it being carefree and adventurous: rather, it will be that yesterday I learned you can never recreate a memory.