The U.N. of Westport

Of all the “how we met” stories we’ve heard, the tale of how Sam and Jackie became friends trumps ’em all. “We met through a horrible cokehead stripper,” said Sam, a lovely blonde. “Who took my car to buy drugs.”

Top that, bitches!

She and Jackie were sitting at the bar of Embassy, the new food-drinkery located at the intersection of Westport Road and Main (near the former Recycled Sounds). On a recent Saturday night, the second week after it opened, we were enjoying its laid-back atmosphere. Touted as an “international bistro,” we found its late-night bar scene a nice addition to the Westport Road drinking corridor.

Housed in the space that the ill-fated Slammerz used to occupy, Embassy retained its oddly shaped room, as well as the giant video screen that broadcast VH1 Classic during our visit. The bar’s been pulled back, which makes the place feel a little more spacious. A kitschy painting of a flamenco dancer hung behind the bar, and other international-themed tchotchkes, including a set of Russian nesting dolls, Dutch wooden shoes and mini-flags, dotted the liquor-laden shelves. The walls were painted mustard-yellow, and with the black accents, it reminded us of a downscale version of Bistro 303.

When we first arrived with Research Assistant Erik, the place was pretty quiet. We got our drinks — a Crown and Coke and a cranberry vodka set us back, like, $7.25 — and claimed a table near the back. Toward the front of the bar, a DJ set up shop, and spun some hip-hop. The small, guy-heavy crowd, which gathered for some predrinking before heading elsewhere, chatted among themselves. Fortunately, the bartender told us that things would probably pick up after midnight, and sure enough, a second shift of drinkers started to flood the place. We noted that Embassy attracted a diverse mix. A cluster of Ethiopian guys did shots at the bar. We later heard that the Eastern Europeans came in on Sunday nights. It was a veritable U.N. — only with more rampant drunkenness.

We ordered more drinks, then started making the rounds. That’s when we met Sam and Jackie. They were on their way to NV when they noticed Embassy. We asked how they met, and Sam launched into the story.

About two and a half years ago, she said, she moved to Kansas City from Omaha. One of her new neighbors was a stripper at Satin Dolls. The stripper invited her out with some other people, and they ended up at VI. “I had no business being in that club,” 28-year-old Sam said, referring to her, uh, lack of pigmentation.

The stripper announced that she had to get something out of Sam’s car. “I naively gave her the keys,” she said. Whereupon the stripper took the car and went to buy drugs. A good amount of time passed, and Sam started to get worried. So she went outside. That fucking bitch! she thought. Naturally, Sam freaked out and called the cops.

The stripper returned before the cops showed up. Sam flung the car door open and told her to get the fuck out of the car. The neighbor was crying and apologized. They all decided to go home, and Jackie, who was friends with the stripper, jumped in for a ride. They’ve stayed in touch since. “So bad things happen for a reason,” she said.

Sam and Jackie soon left for NV, and we started chatting with some of the Ethiopian guys. Sami, an affable 26-year-old, was helping his buddy, Biruk, celebrate a birthday. Sami plays soccer for Park University and knows the birthday boy from back home. What brought you to KC? “I don’t know. It just happened,” he said.

Biruk, who was celebrating his 27th birthday by doing shots, was pretty lit — so lit that it was hard to get him to stand still for a photo. He, too, had no idea how he ended up in KC. He’s been here for five years and is studying graphic design at UMKC. “Rooooos!” he bellowed, in a burst of drink-inspired school pride.

Not long after meeting Biruk, last call was announced around 1:30, and we were herded out of the bar. On the way, though, we ran into a couple of familiar faces: Mary and Maggie, whom we had interviewed at the Levee back in April. These two ladies were bridesmaids in their friend Megan’s wedding, and when we first met them, they were out drinking it up for her bachelorette. Maggie’s 21-year-old sister, Kerry, had a story on how much the Night Ranger has changed her life. Seriously.

“Thanks to you guys, I was proposed to!” she said. She told us that she had been ranting and raving about “these bitches” being in the paper and talking about weddings and such, and she started putting pressure on her boyfriend. Then, Vicki, her boss at Arden B., told her that she should see a matchmaker. She told her boyfriend that if he didn’t propose, she was going to take Vicki up on her suggestion.

So the boyfriend went over to her house and filled it with roses. She wasn’t sure what was going on, but when she went to her room, he was there and he got on his knees.

We congratulated her — we’ll happily take some of the credit for this — and asked how long they’ve been dating. “Around six months,” she said, then added, “I’m not the type of girl to fall for anyone.”

Consider Sam and Jackie’s story topped, then. If you disagree with that, we’ll take our shoe off and beat it on the bar. We’re sanction-irrific like that.