Kansas City, Kansas or Kansas City, Missouri? That’s the question Dykstra is asked most often when she tells someone she’s from Kansas City. (“Do you know Dorothy?” and “Have you ever been in a tornado?” are the second and third most popular.)

Where in the World?
People are easily confused by the geography of Kansas City. In fact, there’s only one Kansas City, and it straddles the border between Kansas and Missouri. State Line Road runs along the border, with its east side in Missouri and its west side in Kansas. Yes, it is possible to stand in the middle with a foot in each state, but since it’s a busy street, I don’t really recommend it.

I grew up in the suburbs of Kansas City, only 45 minutes south of downtown but somehow a world away. Sure, my family visited the city on occasion—to see A Christmas Carol put on by the Missouri Repertory Theatre, shop at Crown Center or celebrate a birthday at Gojo’s hibachi. But I spent my high school years counting the days until I could leave in search of bigger and better.

My family and I are now spread out along the East Coast, which means I don’t get back to KC that often. My trip to research this story was my first time there in nearly a decade. I brought my boyfriend Parker along, eager to show him where I’d grown up but trying to keep my expectations realistic. We live in New York City, so I didn’t think KC would wow either of us. I was wrong. 

The Home Team
KC has a newfound cultural diversity—downtown art fairs, farmers markets, authentic tapas on Southwest Boulevard and a free Shakespeare festival in Southmoreland Park, next to the Nelson-Atkins Museum. The sheer beauty of the city, with its famous fountains second only to Rome in number, was something I’d always taken for granted. Most surprising was the downtown renaissance that had happened after I’d left. Formerly vacant storefronts were reborn as restaurants and bars; glass buildings soared into the sky.

It was a perfect time to be there—the University of Kansas Jayhawks were playing the Memphis Tigers in the NCAA championship game. Fans dressed in Jayhawks red and blue swarmed the sidewalks and crowded every bar. The excitement was palpable, most noticeably in the Power & Light District’s commercial square, where thousands watched the game on a JumboTron. From the balcony overlooking the square, we saw the game go into overtime. Then the Jayhawks pulled ahead—and won. We may not be basketball fans, but when the buzzer sounded, we roared along with everyone else.

Extra Sauce, Please
Parker and I were barely through the door of Gates BBQ on Main Street when we heard “Hi, may I help you?”  I’d warned Parker about Gates’s MO—they yell out their greeting the minute you walk in, and you’re supposed to yell your order back just as fast. Nevertheless, he stood there like a deer in the headlights.  “Hi, may I help you?!” the woman yelled again.  “I’d like a turkey on bun with fries,” I called out over the heads of the people in front of me. Then I grabbed a red tray and got in line. “I don’t know what I want,” Parker whispered.   “Well, you better figure it out quick,” I said and smiled. “It’s totally your turn.”

I’ve been ordering Gates BBQ since I could speak. Everyone in KC has a favorite BBQ joint, and mine is Gates.  After picking up my own cutlery and extra sauce, I chose a table in back under the antique ceiling fans. (All of Gates’s six KC restaurants feel the same—as if you’re in a Southern ranch house.) Then Parker showed up, holding a plate of ribs as wide as his chest. I chuckled. “You going to eat all that?”  “Of course,” he said, looking slightly insulted. 

We both set to work. One bite of my turkey on bun and I flashed back 20 years to my mother bringing home Gates takeout on a summer Saturday. My brother and I would clamor for the little cardboard boxes and grab an extra bottle of sauce from the fridge, knowing that while Gates’s sandwiches and thick-cut fries are terrific, they’re mostly vehicles for the outstanding sauce.  I looked up to see Parker chin-deep in ribs, sauce covering his lips and cheeks.  “What do you think?” I asked.  “Oh my god,” he said, shaking his head.  Exactly.