I spent last weekend in Missouri - Springfield to be exact. A former colleague was getting married and my friend and I were to attend. As I was walking out the door to head to the airport, I received a call saying she was unable to make it. After a few minutes pause, I decided to make the trip by myself.
In my rented Chevy Malibu, I cruised the highway. I oddly at home, even though I haven’t spent a lot of time in Springfield specifically. Dillard’s! Kum-n-Go! QuikTrip! Oh my. Now if only I could find a Sonic.
True story. I drove around looking for a Sonic for lunch on Saturday to no avail. I even called my friend from the area for directions but ended up running out of time before the wedding. On Sunday I tried to go to Dillard’s before I headed to the airport, but the mall is closed until noon because church. (And all God’s people said, “Amen!”) Instead I followed the instructions given to me the day before and - lo and behold - I found Sonic. It was just as delicious as I remembered, which made me a little thankful they aren’t in Chicago.
I headed back to the airport and returned the rental car. I approached the security line that had all of five people in it - I was second in line. “Good afternoon,” said the woman, calling me by name. “How are you doing today?” She looked at me, waiting for an answer. “Um, fine, thank you,” I responded and then she looked down to check my id. This same exchanged happened twice more before I made it through security, each person pausing for an answer before letting me through. I forgot that people are friendlier, but security is tighter. Both my purse and my luggage were inspected at the Springfield airport.
I miss it a little, if I were being honest.
A large part because of the friends I made, a small part because of the carefree (read: irresponsible) days of my mortgage-free, easily-accessible-credit-cards, boy-kissing, three-dollar-big-ass-beer-drinking mid-twenties. But those days are in the past and I prefer them to stay there. I am content in Chicago, which is something I never really was in Kansas City.
But there is something just a little thrilling about starting a night with no idea how it ends. And true to form, Missouri did not disappoint.