I got something caught up in my face, some call it a head cold, I call it Memphis. The city is a key player in my next-big-move vetting process so Ems and I took a trip down to The Bluff City to visit my favorite penpal Bob M (who has not approved any of the following photographs or anecdotes and may have to look kinder and more sensitive than he wishes for the sake of readability) and to see if there were any suitable retirement communities that I could call home. As some of you know, I retired from my life of lies a few months ago. Just kidding, if I was living a life of lies don't you think I would come up with something more interesting?
The trip was boppin' right from jump. We stopped at an Applebees to eat soggy salads and watch the Dodgers smear the Cubs all over their old smelly cramped jumbotron-less ball field. I think Em would say that the real highlight was when we stayed at the Super 8 in Fort Wayne to break up the drive. Hotels have cable TV. Emma around cable tv is like Sho in the Kalahari desert around a coke bottle.
She's so cute. They make a good couple.
The only problem was that she was suffering so much from withdrawal that by the time we rolled up to B's place in Memphis, right in the middle of the VP debates, it was nothing but a handshake and a grab of the remote. We were rewarded with cheese and pickled asparagus. Dudes love it when you use them for their tv.
The next day Bob took us to Graceland. He is close personal friends with Elvis and got us passes.
So we TCB-ed around the grounds of Graceland for the afternoon. Sorry. No flash photography.
R.I.P Elvis
Later that night we went to see William Bell at the Overton Park Shell.
A lot of people did the hustle.
Em is certain that you can do the hustle to ANYTHING. Even silence. Even to the crunch of beet salad at the Beauty Shop Restaurant.
Since we spent Friday in a hedonistic hustle we decided to make Saturday a bit more soulful and went to the Stax Museum of American Soul Music. Bob wanted to make sure no one took down his article in the gift shop and Emma and I wanted to see Isaac Hayes' Superfly Cadillac.
The museum was definitely a turning point in the trip since we weren't allowed to take pictures inside. We were forced to pay attention, you know, live in the moment. The moments included insider Stax Records details provided by our host.
Then we ate a bunch of fried chicken at Gus's World Famous Fried Chicken. Another round of slaw!
With only a few hours of daylight left we headed to The National Civil Rights Museum. It is built into the Lorraine Motel. No photography was allowed so we just got these pics of the Martin Luther King, Jr. Memorial. It's probably better that I wasn't shutterbuggin in there.
It's an elaborate museum full of more stuff to read and video to watch than possible in a single visit. We were about three-quarters of the way through the main spot when closing time was announced and we had to jet across the street to the second building. That's what they kept saying - the second building - it's extremely difficult to write about, let alone come up with sensitive phrasing for public announcements, when the topic is assassination. There is a huge CSI/Minority Report style set-up, spanning about four hotel rooms, that explores all of the evidence against James Earl Ray. It's creepy.
We finished the evening off with a pork butt, more cole slaw, another Dodger's Victory, and a drink at a nautically themed bar.
Em and I got up early the next morning to try and steal the rest of the Luna Bars in our gracious host's home but were unsuccessful and had to spend the first half hour of the trip home trying to find an open coffee shop in town (one strike against Memphis). We survived.
I recommend driving through Tennessee right now. It sure is purty. By one thirty pm we were in Loretta Lynn territory and decided to take a break for a ranch and museum visit. The museum is packed with every outfit and signed autographed picture that ever belonged to Loretta. I'm talking random photos of Sandra Bernhard, Patrick Swayze, Rosanne Barr... you name it. Her scriggly handwriting is featured on white boards next to the bigger exhibits like the cars and tour buses and rooms staged to look like her old coal miner home. No cameras allowed inside.
I ate a ranch style potato and some mushy turnip greens. Emma had corn bread and white beans. Just like regular old ranch hands!
By the time we reached Detroit it was after midnight, cold, and rainy. I'd developed a full-blown head cold that has led me to believe that I may have left Memphis but it hasn't left my face. Whether or not it is a sign that I must take up residence there has yet to be determined. I may have to go back and try sleeping in Overton Park or something more rugged to get a feel for the earthiness of the place. I'm already convinced that the food, folks, and fun categories are covered.
No comments:
Post a Comment