The Big Mystery SurpriseTrip
- TheBetterHalf
- Aug 11
- 5 min read
Updated: Aug 13
Several weeks ago, Cute told me to save August 6, 7, 8 on my calendar. Why I asked. “You’ll see,” said he. Not very satisfying, but for once in my life I held my tongue. That was very uncomfortable by the way.
Three weeks ago, I asked for more details and he told me we would be in the car. This immediately excited me because there’s nothing I like better than a nice long ride in a car.
A few days later, he assuaged my fears and said we would not be in the car all that long. I noted that “not all that long” is specifically vague. He just smiled.
After further, continual, and intensive questioning, he said we would not be taking wonder dog Cuter, which gave me hope for finer accommodation than he is known for.
Eventually he admitted we would be in two states. And he let slip that the destination(s) was/were north of I-70. I told him he was going to have to tell me ahead of time because I needed to know what to wear. “Overalls,” he said.
I don’t own overalls.
Later he amended that: “You can wear the same stuff you’re traveling in,” he said. “For three days.” Now, I was scared. The next day, he added, “Bring a swim suit.” Now I was going to be scary.
Now, all this is either highly annoying or intriguingly fascinating. Guess which I picked.
Finally, this last Thursday afternoon we left. Despite the circuitous route he had chosen and my total lack of directional skills, I eventually figured out that we were going to Weston.
I like Weston. It’s a cute town with a couple of good restaurants, some nice B&Bs and some fun shops. So that was fine until he said “No, we’re just passing through.”
That apparently meant a stop just outside of Weston at the Holladay Distillery, which was a great beginning since I do love me a good Old Fashioned.
After enjoying a libation at Holladay, we made the short drive to downtown Weston and mostly walked by the shops (they tend to close early on weekdays) and finally enjoyed a very nice dinner at the restaurant Avalon. There we sat outside and enjoyed the moderate weather and pleasant view.
Whew, all lovely so far. Still didn’t know where we staying – hoping it wasn’t in a tent or in the car.
Onward we went. When we passed a road sign pointing north to Atchison, I let out a tiny sigh because that was my last hope of seeing the relatively new museum, staying in a cute B&B, and being settled for the night.
However we continued on a gravel road before deadending at a dilapidated building with decrepit farm tools arrayed for our viewing pleasure. Deliverance and Dueling Banjos passed through my mind. “Hmm,” says Cute, “This doesn’t look right.”
Now have I mentioned that one of the things I love about Cute is that he, sometimes not trusting his phone, always carries a folder full of the correct information of where we’re going, people to contact, and so on? Often it has saved us.
Unfortunately, for this trip, he left the folder at home.
However, technology did come to the rescue as he’d talked to the proprietor by phone, having the number for Julie saved in it (automatically as you’d know).
He called. Miraculously, a neighbor showed up and directed us back up the gravel road to the correct turnoff where owner Julie was awaiting us.
Another turn and boy, was that a surprise! Spring Meadow Farm. Beautiful rolling hills, abundant trees and bushes, the serene sound of cicadas buzzing in the near dusk surrounded a newish studio built for two in the relative farm wilderness. I was delighted.
We unpacked a bit and went to sit at the fire pit and watch the sunset and the fireflies and the cows and 50 shades of green disappear into grayness and turn gray-black and then blackness when the stars and moon took over.
The next morning, a slight change of plans meant having breakfast about 20 minutes away in Atchison. There Cute knew an old-timey café and we had a great breakfast – eggs, sausage, potatoes, toast for all of $8.00. Cute said it’d be worth it to drive up here just for breakfast. And who makes broasted chicken anymore?
Then we DID go to the two museums – the Amelia Earhart Museum Home and the Hangar Museum. The first was her granpa’s home where she spent most of her childhood and it was interesting as a 150 year old small town (rather wealthy) home.
The Emilia Earhart Hangar Museum was near the Atchison airport and it was really the most interesting. There were lots of interactives and I learned much about the aviator I did not know. If you’re looking for a day trip, I highly recommend it. Especially for young (or old) girls maybe and anyone at all interested in the sciences and what it takes to fly around the world. The museum is maybe 55 minutes from downtown KC if you don't go the way we did.
Eventually, it was back to the car and the concluding night and day of the this still surprising escapade. Cute drove for about an hour, seemingly in circles, and I could not figure out where we were or where we were going.
Ultimately, though, we appeared to be heading back to Kansas City. Oh well, I thought, that opens up the possibilities. Cute repeated a statement he’d too often said before, “I’ll make it up to you.” Only slightly frightening.
Then we went west. Seemed like miles and miles. It really wasn’t. But when I saw the signage for The Legends, I knew.
I started laughing long before we pulled into Margaritaville and just kept chortling for the next few hours.
Cute is a HUGE Jimmy Buffett fan and despite myself, he’s turned me into a lesser one, and so here we were. Up to a very comfortable and color appropriate room. Cute immediately found his favorite beer, Landshark, and I with a free margarita in hand (wearing the proper birthday headgear helps), we sauntered to the pool knowing that it was five o’clock somewhere.
(This fits if you play it at the same time as the video. Click the link first, click off the ads, and then come back and play > the video. I know, too complex but you'll get the vibe maybe.)
The rest of the story? A nice steak dinner in the nearby casino, no gambling, not that we normally do since our previous experiences have always been negative, back to the hotel and . . .
My conclusion? A trip whose anticipation was high, if slightly fearful, and the execution superb. Let the good times (continue to) roll!
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