I made it to my hotel in Austin, Texas at around 5:30pm yesterday. My room is adorable and the street is walkable, but truthfully, I feel like I could be on a trendy street in LA. The bright colored murals on the sides of businesses that say things like “Live Laugh Yee Haw!” were obviously put there for Instagram purposes only. Memphis murals are different. They celebrate a place and a history.
Memphis never felt like LA. Too much brick. Too much adventure. On Sunday, during a walking tour of some historic sites, the 34-year-old tour guide recommended a restaurant for its vegan pork nachos. I practically lived off vegan pork, aka: jackfruit, during the summer of 2021, but clearly my tour guide thought it was far out. “Some people laugh when I recommend it, but it’s actually really good,” he said. I love LA and I’ll be happy to come home, but while I’m away, I’d rather feel like I’m away, ya know? Otherwise, I may as well have booked a few nights’ stay in East Hollywood.
Gottdamn, I miss Memphis. Let’s talk more about Memphis while I drink coffee and try to open my heart to the idea of Austin.
Where was I?
Around 8:30am last Thursday, after checking out from my room at the Guest House at Graceland and leaving my bags with a flirtatious attendant named George (who must have been about 60 — don’t get excited), I boarded a shuttle to the Graceland Ticketing Center. The driver sang “Happy Birthday” to a group of celebrants and then sat down behind the wheel.
“We’re gonna listen to an Elvis song while we drive,” she announced. “If you know the words, I want you to sing along.”
Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she put on “Suspicious Minds.” My romantic side knows this was cosmic confirmation that I was in the right place at the right time (as a specific live performance from That’s the Way It Is started this whole thing in the first place), but my practical side knows “Suspicious Minds” is a popular song and a natural choice for a five minute jaunt down the road. Regardless, I went ahead and sang while everyone else on the shuttle — with their white hairdos and white mustaches and t-shirts from the gift shop — looked like they were on their way to the world’s most ridiculous wake. They were just so serious — a difficult expression to pull off in rhinestoned baseball caps. Only one other person was stoked to hear “Suspicious Minds” — a girl who looked about 20. When the guitar intro started, she threw herself against the back of her seat, raised her hand to her forehead, and loudly swooned.
We arrived at the Graceland Ticketing Center, a sort of first stop / final stop with similar vibes to an airport terminal, or the last bit before you board Star Tours at Disneyland — excitement is in the air, but so is angst and confusion. When the man checking people in couldn’t find the reservation for a group of women ahead of me, I panicked.
“If this man cannot find my name on his list,” I thought, “I am going to make a scene.”
Thankfully, my check-in went smoothly and the man behind the counter was nice. He sounded like Foghorn Leghorn and looked like Mr. Healy from Orange is the New Black. When he learned I was from California he told me how much he loves Idyllwild.
“Elvis filmed his tenth movie there,” he said.
As a former tour guide at a major travel destination, I understand why Mr. Healy feels inclined to weave Elvis factoids into all his interactions. However, during the course of the day (and the following day when I went to Tupelo, Mississippi with a different crew of tourists), I noticed that plenty of the attending Elvis fans also spoke in trivia. They don’t say, “Idyllwild is where Elvis filmed Kid Galahad.” Instead, they flex in front of each other by calling it, “Elvis’ tenth movie.” In this instance, I took the bait.
“Kid Galahad,” I said.
Mr. Healy’s eyes widened as he practically shouted, “Wellll, lookatchu!”
Finally, I boarded a second shuttle with 12 other people and our tour guide, Sean. I don’t remember what he talked about on the ride over because I caught a glimpse of Graceland through the window. Lord, have mercy.
The first stop on the tour was a tiny room with Elvis artifacts in glass cases — an experience that inspired me to try and remember when it became mandatory to take pictures of everything. I, too, snapped away at the gold “EP” ring, the gold-plated Social Security card, and the gold-plated Beretta with a mother of pearl handle, but while we all stood and snapped, Sean could have encouraged us to engage. He could have told us to pay attention to how much gold was on display. He could have asked us what gold makes us think of — crowns? treasure? hitting the jackpot? He could have asked us to name other performers who wear gold, drive big cars, and live in mansions. I won’t rag too much on Sean — he was a sweetheart and he’d only been working as a tour guide for two weeks — but if I didn’t know anything about Elvis — or why Elvis is worth thinking about in 2024 — I wouldn’t have learned much from seeing Graceland.
Thankfully, I know an awful lot about Elvis, and by the time we finally approached the mansion I was out of my mind with excitement. This was no movie set — this was it, and it was gorgeous.
I felt relieved when we stepped inside. Ahhhh, Graceland. The front room was as beautiful as it always looks in movies (bravo to Baz Luhrmann and Sofia Coppola for expertly recreating it in ELVIS and Priscilla), and it gave me a similar feeling to being in my Yia yia’s blue room. Like, hey, you’re loved and we’re happy to have you, but that doesn’t mean you can touch anything.
Enjoy pictures of the front room. I’ll have more to say after I have something to eat. It’s a sunny day here and I had a full night’s sleep for the first time in almost a week — perhaps some lunch’ll help me feel better about Austin (aka: Not Memphis).