I’ve never like jazz. And I’ve never been a big fan of barbecue. And I definitely never thought a visit to Kansas City would change my mind about either. But it did.
Around this time a few years ago, in the dead of winter, I could myself growing restless. I’d spent the last couple of months hiding in my house, away from the cold weather. Most of my days consisted of work and sleep. And to make matters worse, I hadn’t truly traveled anywhere in the last year. I needed a spontaneous change of pace.
As a Midwesterner myself, I’d heard a few things about Kansas City from friends that had visited in the past. The culture was lively and artistic. The fans are enthusiastically unapologetic about how much they love their sports team. The nightlife is electric. And that it was the Missouri-side of the city that the real action was at (but you didn’t hear that from me). Overall? Nothing but praise for a city nestled alone in the middle of the country, like an afterthought.
The Midwest is where you go to settle down. It doesn’t have the beauty of coastal California or the bustle of New York City. And while Kansas City had already gained a reputation as a notable location in the region, it was still the Midwest. Which is ultimately why I decided to pack a weekend bag and see if excitement really could be found somewhere so unassuming. And to step out of my comfort zone as a traveler.
I’ve traveled to plenty of places since then — most of them alone. But at the time, I didn’t really know how to be a solo traveler. I had often relied on the company I was given and I welcomed the challenge to try and rely on myself for a change. I mapped my own route, booked my own accommodation, packed my own weekend bag, and then I was off.
On my first day in Kansas City, without much of a thought, I found the nearest local coffee shop to my accommodation and spent almost my entire day there. Coffee shops are my comfort. I’m admittedly not a coffee connoisseur by any means, but I do enjoy the atmosphere of a quaint and cozy coffee shop. And I do like to indulge in a good cup of coffee every now and then. I also work online, so coffee shops have always been an office away from my office. And this one, in the Kansas City Midtown—Westport district, was no different.
There was little to no loss in my routine. I had no sense of boredom or loneliness. But I also had no sense of adventure or excitement. I’d gone out and done the same thing I could’ve done in my own hometown. I hadn’t really explored Kansas City for what it was. Partly because venturing out of my comfort zone brought an amount of anxiety I wasn’t yet prepared to face alone. But also partly because I didn’t think there was anything truly “Kansas City” that I wanted to experience. I didn’t like jazz. And I wasn’t a big fan of barbecue. I didn’t follow any of the sports teams and I wasn’t about to go out and experience the nightlife by myself. And I guess I’d judged what Kansas City had to offer me before I really let it show me. Which now as an experienced traveler I can say is the worst way to travel.
The following night, I pushed myself to just give something new a try. If I didn’t like it, I could just leave. So I put on something nice and fun, and I did a quick search for popular jazz clubs close to me. Because how else do you find places besides just looking them up and trusting what the Internet tells you?
I found myself at the Phoenix, near downtown Kansas City. Its dim, overhead lighting and red, brick walls set the stage for what felt like a secret speakeasy…that maybe wasn’t so secret for the amount of people packed in there that night. There was a stage near the door in front of these large, open windows. The rest was seating.
I’d took a chair at the bar top between sets and made small talk with the bartender. I’d unknowingly ordered off the menu, but she let me get what I wanted anyway. The music started back up as she was getting my drink order ready.
I don’t know what I expected, but this wasn’t it. It was loud and lively and a full-body experience. The performers weren’t just singing and dancing, they were playing the audience. And we were eating it up. Soon there were people dancing near the stage and enthusiastically clapping between songs. Even I was bopping and swaying along.
I don’t remember who played that night. I couldn’t even tell you what songs they played. But what I can tell you is that I had the most fun I’d ever had in a bar, alone, on a Saturday night.
I’d like to say that that experience created a jazz lover out of me. But it didn’t. Not an active fan at least. But what it did leave me with was this sense of wonder with this genre of music that I had never had before. It left me wanting more. This was exactly what I had craved out of this trip, and later what I would come to recognize as what I craved out of travel in general.
Before I left town, I took some time to see some Kansas City street art and eat some infamous Kansas City barbecue. And just like with jazz the night before, those small experiences changed my life. Not all at once. Not even right away. But four years later, I can still remember the reckless abandon of joy and laughter in that jazz club. And I’ll spend the next four years still chasing that high.
For more adventure stories, make sure to subscribe to the blog!
Follow me on social media to keep up with my travels in real-time!
samanthasabio 