Back to the BBQ – generally I fly solo but this invite came from a former coworker of Cliff’s. He’s rejected every offer to dine at their house for probably two years. They’d had a third kid for crying out loud since the last time we were there (and that’s at least 9 months and some change in the making). It was time to show up.

However, as much as I like to think I’m a people person, I realize that I’m really not. I would have loved to have stayed in on Saturday night with a glass of wine watching Airplane for the 134^th time, but sometimes you have to step out of your comfort zone and seize the opportunity in front of you – in this instance a BBQ wherein you’re one half of the only couple without kids at a dry house.

Now I’m not an alcoholic by any stretch of the imagination (unless you look at my Tweets and my Friday night Instagram posts), but being 35 and childless while attending a shindig in the burbs surrounded by moms, dads and their young is certainly better enjoyed with a few shots of bourbon under your belt in my book. Or a beer in hand to be sipped while searching for a polite response to all of the inevitably awkward (and somewhat condescending) questions, comments and knowing looks that are thrown your way.

“You don’t have any kids?”

“Don’t you want kids?”

“Everybody wants kids.”

“My kid just did the darndest thing.”

“You don’t know what you’re missing.”

That’s one of my favorites because usually the moment someone shares that wise little gem, their rambunctious sweetheart comes streaking through the kitchen doing this:

And it’s piercing. And you can’t ignore it, because it’s not your kid. You don’t have that built in parent thing where you tune your kids out while carrying on a conversation. Plowing forward as if nothing seems out of the ordinary at all. For the record, it is out of the ordinary. It’s not normal for kids to be running and screaming anywhere other than in a gym or on a playground.  For those who don’t have kids, we can’t disregard it and it’s annoying to no end.  As are your prompts to get me procreating. I don’t need your sympathetic looks, or your advice on how it will change my life. I need your child to shut up so I can hear the one thing you said in the last 60 minutes that was mildly interesting because it wasn’t related to parenting, thus making you an actual person in my eyes instead of a walking talking advertisement for the advantages of abstinence.

(steps off soap box)

This is one topic about which Cliff and I are in complete agreement. But, despite all of this, we said yes. So it was time to put on our game faces and prepare to party like middle-aged suburban parents do.

When attending a social gathering, there’s always a strategy. An action plan, if you will.

1. Park so you can’t get blocked in. You need a quick and easy escape. No waiting for Sally to find her keys and move her car. You need to be swift and able to manage an exit all on your own.
2. In a group of people, you need to smile and speak here and there, be seen so they know you came, but don’t engage in lengthy conversations that could keep you longer than necessary. Make the rounds for about 90 minutes (that includes eating) and then duck out unobserved. You want to be invisible but not too invisible. You want to make an impression but not too much of an impression.
3. No swearing because there are kids around. Cliff and I swear like sailors. This is always the tough one for us. At least I had the good sense to remind Clifford that some parents consider “crap” a bad word, too (I’ve been chastised for that one by a parent before). So thinking before speaking is definitely the order of the day.
4. Have your body language down so you can read each other across a crowded room. You know what I’m talking about. Those wordless signals that say things like “this guy’s a jackass,  so come save me from this conversation” or “this lady smells like cigarettes and altoids” or “abort mission and meet me at the car now.”

With a plan like this, you’ll never go wrong. You’ll make the best of a bad situation every time. Clifford said he felt like we were the couple from Four Christmases. I kind of agree. I never realized till this weekend how much energy we put into not being around people. It’s actually quite substantial. But it’s all to avoid situations just like this (because this is 100% us) —

We did have a nice time. Even though I was sober. We watched the space shuttle orbiting the Earth. We sat outside on a warm, but not hot, summer night civilly discussing politics (which you very rarely do with people these days). Though we did walk away still needing to find that other couple to which we can truly connect. That couple that’s just like us. Who knows if they’re even out there? Maybe I should put out an ad.

Wanted: a childless couple that enjoys wine and whiskey, swearing, Euchre, Ronald Reagan, and television. Surely someone could meet those simple standards? 

Who am I kidding here?

But let me start from the beginning…

Over the years I’ve grown to enjoy a good barbecued meal here or there, though I’ve never considered myself an aficionado by any stretch of the imagination. 

I live in the South. BBQ is like air to these people. I was going to succumb at some point; it was only a matter of when. Why fight it? So I began catching those pit master shows now and again. I learned the difference between Carolina BBQ and Memphis BBQ and Texas BBQ and so on and so forth. I was cultivating a healthy curiosity about smoked and grilled meats, if you will. My favorite BBQ to date has been from The Salt Lick just outside of Austin, Texas. To me, they do it right. And you can bring your own beer. However, I think I’ve found a tough contender for the title of “My Favorite BBQ”.

When Clifford and I found ourselves driving from Atlanta to Colorado last fall, and I realized we would be driving directly through Kansas City, it was a no-brainer. Clifford became hungry in St. Louis. I made him wait – for four hours. He couldn’t understand why just any place in Kansas wouldn’t do to get some good BBQ. He said, “It’s their thing, right?” I tried to explain that to not get Kansas City BBQ when you are actually driving through Kansas City was like sacrilegious. So he starved while I quested for some good  eats. It happens.

The next important thing? I couldn’t just Google “best BBQ in Kansas City”. I needed a local recommendation. So there we were, driving through Kansas City just after a rain storm. It looked deserted to be quite honest even though it was late a Friday afternoon.

“I’m seriously not just driving around for the next hour. You need to figure this shit out,” said my hungry husband. “I’m looking for people. Like street people. I don’t want to go into a building and ask just anyone. I need to find myself a real person of the city, ” I said.

We drove around. A one-way street, then the next. We were doing circles. Suddenly I spotted him. A guy in a purple sweatshirt. He was walking from one crosswalk to the other. “Pull over!!!! Here!!! HERE!!! I want to ask that guy!” I screamed, pointing at the man. Clifford, “ Are you serious?!!! You want me to just pull over in the middle of the street so you can ask that guy about BBQ?!” he screamed back. “Yes!” I said. “This is it; I can feel it!”

Clifford pulled over and I jumped out. I ran up the street to the only man we’d seen walking around in such crappy weather. I think I scared the bejesus out of him. I darted right to him, he jumped. I was thisclose as I asked, “If you had one hour in Kansas City for the best BBQ of your life, where do you go?” Startled at first, the guy answered immediately, “Oklahoma Joe’s.” There were a few locations, but he told me he recommended the original. It would be 20 minutes out of our way, but well worth it, he assured me. He said he it was so good he couldn’t even suggest a backup because nothing else came close to Oklahoma Joe’s.

I was sold just as a car drove through the biggest puddle imaginable drenching us both. The things we go through in the pursuit of the best BBQ (sigh). I thanked Jason (I did ask his name since we had become intimately acquainted after all) and was on my way.

Recommended by random Jason on a street corner in downtown Kansas City.

Clifford begrudgingly drove the 20 minutes out of our way because I promised him the Kansas City BBQ of his dreams. We reached our destination and sat in the car staring at a gas station. Seriously?

But then we noticed, there was a line building out the door. This was the place. I looked at him and said, “No take backs, buddy. Let’s eat.”

Oklahoma Joe’s is attached to a gas station. We stood in line to place our order while glancing at the convenience store shelves to the left. It was pretty funny, actually. The place was packed and it was only 3 o’clock in the afternoon. There was a roll of paper towel and a couple of sauces sitting on the tables. That was it. It was a very simple bbq joint. We placed our order and lucked out with a seat.

Standing in line to place our order.

The food was amazing! We both got the brisket and ribs dinner. Beer and BBQ – the perfect combination.

Beer, brisket and ribs with some rings and a side of slaw. Perfect for a rainy day. Or ANY day.

The sauce was perfect. The meat was savory and SO tender to the touch. It melted in my mouth.

A rib about to be consumed by yours truly.

Oklahoma Joe’s had to be the best Kansas City BBQ in the state. I was in love. I found out today that Oklahoma Joe’s ranks number 3 on Yelp’s list of ‘Top 100 places to eat’. I can agree with that evaluation. If you are ever within three or four hours of Kansas City, take the detour to Oklahoma Joe’s. You won’t regret it.

Oklahoma Joe’s

Thank you, Jason, wherever you are, for letting me accost you at that crosswalk on that rainy day and offering up the best recommendation ever!