Too

I’m out in sunny LA. We left just moments after a serious mid-south tourist sesh. I hope that I can pay proper tribute to The Crystal Shrine Grotto and Graceland Too in the next couple of days – before the excitement wears off.

For now, I can tell you this – I can start at the end of my night on July 14th. At the end of a two hour too-close-for-comfort-loose-dentured-touchy-feely-mania-induced-name-dropping tour inside a musty tomb of Elvis memorabilia, we walked out on the porch to find a group of five people waiting to get inside Graceland Too, waiting for their turn, looking at us – trying to read our faces – anticipating awe and wonder and confirmation that the drive to Holly Springs was a great idea.

“How was it?” The only guy in the group asked.

“I have no idea.” I said, “I don’t know yet.”

I wasn’t sure if there was anything in my personal language reservoir that could express to anybody how that was. I needed to sit down. Have a coke. Review my emotions. Wash my hands.

And the next day, I read this and was even more dumbfounded that the author had had nearly the exact same experience of what I thought was an un-replicate-able experience. Down to the shoulder taps and obsession with rakes and millions of dollars and flags of New York. Of course the author of that article doesn’t mention being shown a personal photo of a raccoon that our host, the #1 Elvis fan in the world, shot on his porch. He showed that to us.