At Ad Club
Friday, September 19th, 2008
Last night, I saw the world between the slats of a wrought iron gate and the sky as pointed to by black spires. The post-six-o’clock sun warmed the front porch and the lost sand particles in with the cement mixture. At that hour, the sun burns off its last heat of the day before the fall nights dip into the 50s and lower – absolute blanket weather for anyone who keeps the windows slid open for a taste of fall. Fire ants and various other species of that kind are usually found in such places in the summer and spring, but either the day’s heat or the overnight fridgedness had driven the insects into hiding.
Casually dressed business men sipped beer and laughed hollowly at the stairs leading up to the historic, two-story house that is the headquarters for the Kansas City Ad Club. I sat, with elbows on my knees, waiting for a familiar face to arrive. I had a beer, too, Boulevard Wheat, in a red plastic cup set on a step between my feet.
Across the street, I could see a small park with a look out terrace and a ledge that drops directly down on the interstate. Beyond that is “the bottoms,” where the land flushes out between two metro cities in separate states. from this historic district known as Quality Hill, the city’s origins as a trade destination at the Missouri River’s bend.
My colleagues in the ad industry mingle on a blacktop parking lot with catered food spread out on long tables under a tent.
I shake hands with people whose last names are attached to the largest ad agecies in town and don’t feel the least bit intimidated. This is a friendly gathering and the amiable faces are easy to pick out. More cars pull up along the roadside and execs get out in casual clothes.
Still early on in the event, I run out of faces to greet and make my way toward the tent but shore up on the sidewalk. Just as I’m beginning to feel uncomfortable and out of place, I find my friend and my moment of quiet contemplation has passed.
