I work with someone who knows everything. No need to ask her, she’ll tell you. Prior to me flying out of town with On My Terms, my coworker asked where I was going. “Kansas City,” I excitedly replied. “Which one? Missouri or Kansas?” “Not sure. I’m flying into MCI. Or is it KCI? I don’t know and I really don’t care, I’m just excited to be going there,” I told her. “Well they’re distinctly different,” she informed me as I rushed out the door so I could get home and pack for Kansas City, somewhere.
Once On My Terms and I arrived at MCI we headed to the baggage claim. As we did, I noticed several bins with three letters on them: K, C and I. “Are we at MCI or KCI?” I asked On My Terms. “The cans say KCI,” she replied. Question not answered.
We arrived at the hotel and, being that we didn’t rent a car, we thought it might be good to get the name of cab company or too. “A lot of the cabs have Missouri plates,” I observed. “Missouri is really close,” On My Terms replied.
Once we met up with her coworkers I decided to ask about the whole Kansas City, MCI, KCI thing, “It’s MCI but everybody calls it KCI.” I then shared with them my coworker’s story. “One thing is certain, we’re staying in Kansas,” On My Terms said. “Actually, your hotel is in Missouri,” they told us. “That explains the all of the cabs with Missouri plates,” I said.
As we walked back to the hotel that night On My Terms quipped, “There sure are a lot of cars in Kansas with Missouri plates.” “We’re not in Kansas anymore,” I replied.