It’s my last night in Memphis, and I just popped two Tums. On the other side of my laptop screen is a slice of chocolate chess pie. I only had room for a bite or two of it (after my dinner of fried chicken and baked beans), but I can’t bring myself to throw it away — throwing it away would feel wrong. I could put it in the mini fridge, but I can’t risk touching the styrofoam box — if I get too close I know I’ll devour that sumptuous chocolate chess pie.
Listen. I love Memphis. I’d come back here in a heartbeat to marvel at the sight of the Mississippi River, the lights of Beale Street, and the rows of old brick buildings that look as historic as anything in Europe. (They’re literally not, I know, but there’s a vibe.) Also, there’s music in the air. Also, I ate a cup of banana pudding this afternoon that was so shockingly delicious I felt that I might weep. Also, everyone is damn nice. People look up and say “good morning” and “how you doin’ today?” when they walk by each other on the sidewalk and it feels both genuine and normal. Thank Christ — seriously, thank you Christ! — I didn’t only visit Memphis to see Graceland.
Oh, I loved Graceland — I loved it — I just don’t like Elvis fans very much.
When I landed in Memphis last Wednesday night, I picked up a phone at the baggage claim and dialed 37. A woman at the Guest House at Graceland instructed me to head outside, cross the street, and wait under the pole labeled “13.” After about 15 minutes, a massive blue van with Elvis’ face on it pulled up to the curb. The driver took my bags and I climbed inside and screamed a bit, internally, when I heard “Kentucky Rain” blasting through the stereo.
The Guest House at Graceland is a 450 room resort surrounded by abject bleakness (and no, I don’t feel great about it). The lobby was packed when I arrived — packed with parents and kids and grandmas grooving to a cover band’s blah rendition of “Good Rockin’ Tonight.” I got to my room and turned on the TV just in time to see Elvis perform “If I Can Dream,” the final song he sings in the 68 Comeback Special. The timing felt divine until the credits ended and I discovered the Guest House at Graceland plays the 68 Comeback Special on a loop 24/7. Brilliant.
I was too wired to get a decent amount of sleep, but I still bolted out of bed when my alarm went off at 5am. I turned the TV on and watched Elvis sing “If I Can Dream” again, and then I got myself ready for Graceland. It took a few hours, but sis looked good. By the time I put on Christie’s Rolex, it was time for me to catch the shuttle from the lobby.
To…be…continued.
Goodnight, y’all.
Lookin mighty fine! Can6wait to see your bounty of souvenirs when you get back!
Next trip I’m coming with you!