Postcards
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Postcards
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| postcard #4 |
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So we're recovering from last night's cultural overload. We found this quaint little restaurant across the street from the Peabody Hotel, Automatic Slim's Tonga Club, where Elvis Herselvis, a lesbian Elvis, and her Five Straight White Males (highlighted in Friday's USA Today as a cross between the King and K.D. Lang) was to perform. We showed up too late to get a seat, but early enough to get in. As luck would have it, we were much better off without a seat.
While waiting for the Queen of Rock and Roll, we had the opportunity to mix and mingle to meet a few of the locals. Our good friend Jennifer works for the National Landmark Historical Society, and is responsible for the preservation of all of downtown Memphis. And her friend, Katie, runs a day care center and drives a full-size conversion van. Then there is Corky, who moved to Memphis in 1968 and drove by Graceland one week later, and saw the King in the front yard. She never saw him since, and is one of the few locals to have ever seen him. She invited us to go on an Elvis-themed river cruise on Saturday, but we have concert tickets to see Elvis perform via video--she was silenced with jealousy. While chatting away with all our new-found Memphis pals, a woman approached Tony and said, "You were at the Arcade Diner today." "Yes," Tony says. "I saw you on the news," she said. "My fiancee owns the restaurant and recognized you from the news." The people of Memphis are so nice. Then the music began, and the Queen came through the crowd and began her number, an opening medley like an all-you-can eat buffet. Hips swaying and gyrating, the inside leg of her jumpsuit spit wide open in an unanticipated concert moment, exposing her thigh for the rest of the night. With the restaurant at capacity, a crowd began to form outside. Fans, pawing at the window, hoping for someone to come out so they could come in. One woman came in to give a bouquet of flowers to Elvis Herselvis, and she gave her an autographed photo. For the rest of the night, she stood plastered to the outside window, looking in, bouncing to the beat, and holding her autographed photo for the restaurant to see. Very quickly, the Queen of Rock and Roll had worked up a rather heavy sweat. I sat on the floor in front of her, and sweat began to shower down on me. I was, however, able to avoid a rather large dollop of drool that dropped from her mouth after finishing "Love Me Tender." About the third number, it was beginning to get hot, and the Memphis Fire department flooded the street. Within minutes, the entire street was blocked with the Police Mobil Tactical Unit, and people began to poor out of the Peabody Hotel as firemen strolled in with hoses slung over their shoulders. They were evacuating the hotel. Elvis Herselves continued on, as people in robes and towels, and several Elvis Impersonators in various states of dress filled the street. The host of the restaurant said she thought one of the Peabody Ducks was walking the ledge and threatening suicide, wanting to end it all after seeing one too many Elvis fans. The crowd was oblivious to the action happening outside as all their energy was focused on Elvis. A young woman with Marcia Brady hair rolled around on the floor, and blew kisses at Elvis. A young man sang every word in synch with Elvis, including all the appropriate hand motions. Watching him interact with Elvis began to make me feel uncomfortable. It was almost as if the two were involved in an intimate relationship and my watching was interrupting. Women, that can best be described as diesel dykes, not because we're stereotyping, but because they are an accurate description of that stereotype, came forward to stuff dollar bills in Elvis' belt. All this while the Peabody continues to be evacuated. Chefs are standing in the street, directing the crowd. Elvis Herselvis fans are plastered against the window, and the Queen herself is sprinkling sweat on a host of fans willing to catch every drop. At about the time the concert began to wind down, the crowd was just getting going. Dancing on the bar, on tables, everywhere. The crowd demanded several encores. When the Queen finally called it quits, the crowd continued, stomping, yelling, screaming. Women with robes and towels on their heads wondered the street. A cute blond girl approached Elvis Herselvis and confessed her love. Elvis was back on stage to do one more number. But she had lost one of her band members. Not a problem. A gentleman in the crowd stepped forward, picked up the guitar and took the guy's place. Surreal is probably the most appropriate word. The only word. Following the performance, we walked Beale Street, and visited Elvis Presley's Memphis, his new restaurant/night club theme. If you've ever been to Planet Hollywood or the Hard Rock Cafe, you have never been to Elvis Presley's Memphis. It's better. Much better. Still overwhelmed from Elvis Herselvis, we only stayed long enough to walk through the restaurant. We passed on their version of a fried peanut butter and banana sandwich. Late in the evening, we had missed the International Dance Party at the Agricenter International, and we decided to call it a night. Coming up: National Civil Rights Museum, and the Candlelight Vigil.
Elvis forever,
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