Memphis – The Place of King

Graceland calls.  Yes, it’s a three hour drive from Nashville but it’s on my bucket list.  10 minutes on the highway, outside of Memphis, the idiot lights on the rental car start flashing.  It says refer to manual.  Of course there’s no manual in the glove box so I google the code.  Something to do with the brakes!!! I ask Rich if the brakes are working, he responds, “I haven’t had to use them yet” sigh.  Luckily we are right outside of the Memphis airport and very easily are able to stop and swap the car for another.  This must happen often because the rental car people didn’t blink an eye. 

Graceland is not just a mansion, it’s an experience.  Across from the mansion is a complex devoted to marketing everything Elvis. My vision was that we would pop into the mansion, past the famous iron gates with the music notes, and peruse the house.  Nooooo, one must buy a pricey ticket for a self-guided ipad tour and get on a minibus that drives you literally across the street to crowds and lines in the heat.  We wait in the sun patiently taking many, many pictures before we make it inside.  Tourists are allowed to walk through the first floor and the basement.  The upstairs is reserved for visiting family members like Priscilla and Lisa Marie. The rooms are preserved in time circa 1960’s to 1970’s.  An ENTIRELY white living room—10 foot sofa and carpet welcomes us, well maybe not us because white has never been our color as it becomes easily accented with our stains and finger prints and the velvet rope tells us to stay back.  Elvis probably was not planning on having children when he and his parents moved in.  Downstairs is all brocaded drapes, crystal chandeliers and stained glass peacock windows.  Elvis’s parents’ bedroom is accented in purple.  He lived here with his parents because he bought the house when he was only 21. Hmmm, note to self, children buy their parents houses when they’re 21.  Clearly Elvis and I are the same.  His kitchen and basement have the same wood paneling we had in Queens in the 1970’s.  The poodle wallpaper is similar to the raised red velvety fleur de lis wallpaper we had in Queens too.  OMG, we had the same TV and dark, shag carpet as his Jungle room.  Elvis’ house reminds me so much of my childhood down to the cheap metal swing set out back. Lisa Marie and I could have had sleepovers! We leave the complex after visiting the poolside Mausoleum where Elvis, his twin brother and his parents are interred.  Not really a place to take a swim but gives a whole new meaning to the term infinity pool.  The minibus rolls us back across the street to the sprawling “complex” which has restaurants, exhibits, cars, planes, a movie theater, and multiple gift shops.  It’s too much to see in one day so we buy a couple of Tshirts and call it done.   

Memphis is THE place for BBQ.  We find a yelp reviewed joint a few minutes from Graceland.  The lady behind the counter expertly orders for me and calls me honey.  Ribs for two with coleslaw and potato salad.  She takes one look at Rich and notes  “mild” BBQ sauce; he’s the only white guy in the place.  They stop taking orders after us and send people away.  17 orders is their limit and customers wait patiently for their food.  We snag a table and eat the most delicious, falling off the bone ribs.  There’s a man staring at me through the window outside.  He makes me uncomfortable but I ignore him and notice that he comes inside; probably just another hungry customer. He announces to no one in particular that he’s lonely and doesn’t have a girlfriend and then proceeds to have a loud conversation with himself. One generous patron drops some change in front of him and tells him to put it towards a burger.  He continues talking then notices some young girls by the register.  He changes his seat and then comments to them about how pretty they are.  One girl makes the mistake of looking at him and thanking him.  He gets up and stands next to her. She tries to ignore him but he continues to discuss how he needs a girlfriend, more to himself but clearly making her and her friend uncomfortable by standing very close.  The cook emerges from the back, has a few terse words with him, and chases him out the door.  As the cook returns and calmly walks past me I notice a gun in his waistband.  It was clearly the reason why the man with no girlfriend left.  I consider the situation.  Rich and I look at each and, in unspoken understanding, agree that the ribs are just too delicious to abandon due to the threat of gun violence so we continue to eat the delectable BBQ.