How to be a Kans-Ass
Late on a Wednesday night in North Kansas City, three women stood atop the bar at Moxie, vying for a chance to be Miss Kans-Ass City. As the DJ cued T.I.’s “Bring ‘Em Out,” a hot blonde pulled up the cuffs of her slender jeans to her knees and raised her shirt up to expose her taut midriff. The second contestant focused on micro-shaking her ass, while the third hooked her thumbs through her belt loops and pulled down her jeans to reveal the triangular top of her G-string.
Miss Kans-Ass City — which is the most awesome name for a contest ever — also coincided with ladies’ night, so chicks got in for free, while guys paid $6. The Wednesday night humpfest continues through January 24. But even on one night there, we found ample evidence that bar-top antics take place at Moxie on a regular basis: a long, metal bar running across part of the ceiling for gripping purposes and a nearby sign cautioning “dance on the bar at your own risk.”
Coyote Ugly might have gotten rejected from the Legends, but we’re glad to see that its spirit lives on in NKC.
Located on North Oak Trafficway, Moxie has an exterior that resembles a Shoney’s. The inside was actually pretty attractive, with painted red-brick walls and a light-wood bar that made up the medium-sized main room. In the front, a solarium held the dance floor and the DJ station. It’s a good neighborhood bar with daily drink specials. And any place that offers $5 fruity drinks in fishbowls is all right with us.
We stationed ourselves at a high-top table in the main room and ordered that night’s special, $2 domestic beer. Our friendly server, Mary, kept ’em coming with considerable aplomb. As we sat with research assistants Ben, Katie and Erica, one of the contest organizers came over and tried to get the ladies at the table to enter the rumpspringa. “It’ll be a bonding experience,” he said. The winners would receive a free photo shoot and then return at the end of the eight weeks to compete for $500 and a three-night trip to Florida.
Uh, photo shoot? Is that like Glamour Shots?
“No, it takes place at the bar,” the guy said. They provide a makeup artist, but it’s BYOW — bring your own wardrobe.
Tempted by the cash, bold, fearless RA Erica decided to represent our table and enter. “I ate a lot of fries to get this ass,” she said. “McDonald’s owes me.” Erica signed a release form that forbid her from taking off her clothes and warned her against falling off the bar. (No one’s toppled off yet, according to Scott, the contest’s chief organizer.)
As we drank, we discussed strategy and eyed the rest of the bar to size up the competition. We noticed a woman flitting about in a skimpy red top. She also rocked the tight jeans, which had decorative faux holes on the back pocket, and a black straw hat adorned with skull-and-crossbones insignia. We were sure she was a competitor, so we struck up a conversation with 22-year-old Stephanie. We found out that she finished last year’s contest as the “grand winner.”
Our ass-sessment of Stephanie: we’re no bookies (though we long to be), but odds were good that her scanty clothing would help her rank high again. Plus, we noticed her black-and-white thong peeking above her waistband, something that she could use to her advantage. We asked what her plan was for the night, and she replied: “I don’t know. Get really drunk?”
A little later, we spotted Stephanie near the food-order pick-up window, lifting a leg up onto another woman and posing in semi-hump mode. Of course, this attracted a small horde of slobbering guys, who whipped out their cameras and cell phones to document the moment. Perhaps that was a smart move to garner votes, given that the winners would be determined by crowd noise. Hmm, how fiendishly ingenious of her.
In the meantime, a guy-heavy crowd started to filter in. We chatted briefly with 28-year-old Austin, who hovered at a table near us. He was practically getting whiplash from ogling the bevy of women in tight pants and clingy tops. He lives in Kearney and had never been to this contest before. We asked for his predictions, but he said the chick he had his eye on wasn’t even entering the contest. Alas.
While we talked to Austin, another friend of ours who had entered the contest had to go to the DJ booth to say she wanted to shake it to “Baby Got Back.” The DJ looked at her in disbelief.
“I’m not taking this seriously!” she said.
“You should! You’re really cute!” the DJ answered.
Um, are you aware that we’re at something called Kans-Ass?
Another guy hanging out by the DJ booth asked our friend what drugs she uses — pot, Ecstasy or black powder. Yeah, we’re that much out of it that we have no idea what he meant by black powder. As he queried our buddy, he also started to rub up on her. All skeezed out, she fled. Later, we Googled black powder, which was no help: Our search turned up recipes for gunpowder and words such as saltpeter.
Speaking of making salty peters, the organizers finally found six women to enter, and each was called to the bar individually. We were surprised that all the entrants wore jeans — we expected more Lycra-based asswear.
After carefully climbing on a white plastic stepstool to get on the bar, they had 30 seconds to impress the crowd. RA Erica was up first, and though she shook it with heart, she sadly didn’t get the same response as a few of the other contestants, who used stripperish moves such as the low-squat dip, the frenzied micro-ass-shake and the faux-erotic gaze into the mirror behind the bar. One woman, who sported a black newsboy hat, was the first to use the ceiling bar for a sideways sway-‘n’-grind move.
April, the tall blonde, was up next. As she writhed, she used one hand to pull up her shirt to the underside of her boobs.
The buttstravaganza became funnier when, in the middle of it, a woman selling roses out of a white basket walked through the crowd, unperturbed by the guys madly hooting away.
Watch shakin’ footage of the contest:
Three finalists were named to be in a final shake-off for the night. Making the cut were Stephanie; a 22-year-old named April, who sported a “Miss April” Playboy bunny logo necklace; and Kelly, a 22-year-old brunette in a cropped camouflage jacket. Kelly’s patented move: squatting low and waggling her butt to the crowd. She also had a vocal support group that included her boyfriend, El, and his best friend, Justin. Following a dance-off, Kelly was declared the winner. Afterward, she said, “I’m really, really shy. My face was beet-red up there.”
“I’m not going to do this again,” we overheard April say after getting off the bar. It turned out that she works for the group that organized the contest and was called in to lend her ass. Her strategy, she said, was to show as much skin as possible. Sadly, her calves didn’t pull through for her. But considering she’s a model who appears in ads for Harrah’s, we’re sure she’ll recover from this disappointment.
DJ E continued to play an array of hip-hop stuff at a deafening level, and slowly, the dance floor started filling up. Two couples humped away, front-to-back style, using the edge of the solarium windows as support. Then Stephanie took to the floor with a staid-looking guy in a button-down shirt and a tie that was knotted to his Adam’s apple. She wrapped one leg around his waist, to the astonishment of us gawkers. “What the fuck?” said an incredulous Austin, who’d been giving Stephanie the low eyes.
Yep, WTF sums up our feelings about a lot of things that night, too. We’ll see you there next week, though. RA Erica’s on a mission to win.
