Many years ago, two dear friends and I went on a road trip. We drove to Tupelo, Mississippi. Tupelo is where Elvis Presley was born. Now, I'm a born and bred Southern girl, with a love of a lot of things Mississippi. Elvis is NOT one of those things. I know, I know, I'm going to hear from haters on this one. But after years, no not years, decades of hearing Elvis' Blue Christmas blasted over department store sound systems all winter, and radio stations that played all Elvis all the freaking time on or near his birthday, I sincerely cannot stand him. (I will say I liked him and his movies when I was much younger, but time changes many things.)
One of my friends was from Tupelo and thought it would be a treat for us to see his childhood home and other various homages to all things Elvis. There was lots of wine, so I was happy enough. We stopped at his childhood home, toured some other Elvis-related places, then headed to the casinos in Tunica, Mississippi. We walked in the first casino and saw Elvis posters and statues. Elvis was blaring over the stereo system. Heaven help me! But there was wine.
After a day and evening of casinos, Elvis and wine, we slept a few hours and headed to Memphis, Tennessee. I was dying to hit Beale Street. Bars, wine, music...I forgot about one thing-- Graceland. The friend who'd arranged this trip had paid for admission for all three of us to Graceland. But still, there was wine. Lots of wine. Have I mentioned I had a fondness for wine?
We headed into Graceland for the tour. Deep breath. We walked through a sea of Elvi. There were short ones, skinny ones, tall ones, chubby ones, blond ones, just about any ones. I needed to drink more wine. Actually, that isn't true, I'd had more than enough wine.
When I drink alcohol, I get chatty. And loud. And I find myself to be very amusing. I can't help it if others don't appreciate my humor. As we walked through the grounds, touring his plane, his home, his memorial site, I began to comment on various things.
"Attack of the ELVI!!" I screamed, as we traveled through the throng of Elvis impersonators.
"Shhh!" said my friend. "You're going to get us hurt!"
I kept up commentaries throughout the tour. And when a guide yelled at me for using a flash camera, I held up my hands and said, "Nope! Empty hands here! I'm not a fan!" Shortly after that, we left. I think it had something to do with threatening looks, words, or something from the fans.
It was a fun trip with good friends, good wine and good memories. Okay, the crowd of Elvi chasing us away was a little freaky, but...