Kansas City – Royals and Museums
Day Two on the "Midsummer Odyssey." The day I pondered my existence and walked the tightrope between sanity and insanity. No, stop! It wasn't that bad. We had a difficult time seeing the Kansas City Royals and Museums but maintained our sensibilities and made it to the next day. Friday Night - Look at The Tickets! Somewhere between the raindrops, standing ovations, beer, and tornado warnings, Nomad, the Younger decided to check the next day's schedule. "So the game starts at 1:10 tomorrow?" "Nah," I respond, "they play tomorrow night." Sweetly, yet forcefully persistent, Nomad the Younger explains that if they are playing on Saturday night, someone should tell the Royals. "The Royals are playing at 1:10." Yes, an unforced error by the Nomad. The Kauffmans Here's the problem. The plan was to go to the Negro League Museum and the game, and we don't have any extra time. Thus, we need to squeeze both into Saturday so that we can see the Field of Dreams movie site on Sunday. We can't delay because I need to get to the College World Series on Monday. Not to mention the younger Nomad has a plane to catch. OK, no problem. It's a three and a half-hour drive to Kansas City, give or take. We'll leave at 6:30 and be in Kansas City by 10:30, see the museum and make it to the game by 1:00. Who cares if we are a little late? Saturday Morning - The Drive From Hell Another inaccurate, overstatement. Hell is probably worse, and I've never heard about rain in Hell. The stories I hear refer to fire and heat, not SUVs and pouring rain. As we leave, it starts to rain. Then it starts to rain harder. For a while, the rain stops, and we begin to make good time. As we talk, the sky starts to darken into an eerie purple. The sky continues to darken, then darken some more. Soon it was the color of eggplant or the center of a nasty bruise. The purple sky correlates with the wind blowing wildly. I grip the wheel while we look for tornados, houses blowing over, or a woman on a bicycle flying through the sky. Then the heavens open and sheets of rain pour down. This is the type of storm that windshield wipers won't solve. The wipers simply push water back and forth, the water coming down too fast to actually keep the windshield clear. Inside Kauffman Stadium We crawl along - following other slow-moving vehicles. We're creeping our way through a creepy, artificial night caused by clouds, wind a rain. Finally, I can't take it anymore, and we take the next exit looking for shelter. The hoped-for shelter is "Ozarkland." Roadside America describes Ozarkland as "a gift shop/tourist trap." The description is a tad harsh. There are cute knickknacks, what looks like fantastic fudge and the bathrooms are clean. Most of all, the patient salespeople who let a couple of wet nomads hang…