Day 3 – 11/11/08 This is where the fun begins...

Note: Recommended that all readers under 16 skip day 3

Woke up when Shelby called at 6 am, couldn’t go back to sleep, so went to gas station were internet was available and started trying to find lodging in Memphis. Went to birthplace of elvis around 830. Explored the outside til the museum opened at 9.

Met a crazy, gay, old man named Ivy. My first encounter with Ivy was when I first entered the Elvis museum. He greeted me first with a pat on the back to get my attention, and told me I was going to really enjoy the museum. Not too weird, just normal, friendly staff doing their job. He then proceeds to introduce himself as Ivy and offers me his hand. I shake it and introduce myself as Alex. Still not weird, as we’re just two strangers meeting for the first time.

After a short handshake, Ivy leans in for a hug. And not a regular one. This hug was awkwardly long and the embrace too tight for comfort. I awkwardly gave him the one-armed pat on the back in return. As he (finally) pulled away he told me to “mash” the red buttons on the videos in the museum to watch them. As he told me this he had his right arm tucked under his left armpit, with his left wrist limp, letting his hand dangle. That gave a better explanation to the awkwardly long and tight embrace. He walked away as I made a mental note to try and avoid him later on.

I finished my self-guided tour through the museum of Elvis’ early life and moved on to the inside of the “House where Rock n Roll was born.” It was a very simple two room shotgun house with one bedroom and a kitchen. Seemed nice enough. After I was done with that I moved on to the church that Elvis attended and learned to pick the “gi-tar” as the guide told us. After the fairly boring videotaped re-enactment of a few songs Elvis would have sung in church, I headed out the door and was about to leave.

As I was headed towards my car, I noticed a statue of a 13-year old Elvis of which I had not yet taken a picture. I took a picture of it, and was just about to move one when I heard a voice about 70 feet away say “let me get you in there with ‘im.” I turned to see a)wo the voice belonged to and b)if they were talking to me. Sure enough, here comes Ivy quick-walking his 75 years of age down a flight of stairs to help me out. I thought, “Goddddd damn it. I don’t want this guy to hug me again.” But I did want a picture of me with young Elvis, so I let Ivy take a picture of me with Elvis. I thanked him, and then he offered his hand as if for another handshake. I still remembered what happened last time I shook his hand, but couldn’t be rude and let him hang like that, so I shook his hand.

As I expected, Ivy moves in for another hug. “Fuckin a,” I thought. “What is it with this guy and awkward hugs?” To make matters even a bit weirder he gave me his address with a postcard and told me to drop him a line sometime. I accepted it without the intention of using it, and said goodbye.

Apparently he didn’t recognize the syllables of “good” and “bye” and mistook them for “follow” and “me.” He followed me to my car, talking about his wife (nice cover) and his children and grandchildren (even better). I tried to leave one last time and then he stuck that damn hand of his out again.

I don’t know what I was thinking. I was standing nearly my full arm’s length away from him, but he still managed to yank me in for one last too-long hug. Only this time, this guy actually scratched my bag and said, “Give your back a little scratch,” in a tone that can best be described as on par with the old man obsessed with Chris on Family Guy. You know, the one with the lisp and the freezer full of popsicles who misses the paper boy all the time? Ya, not as funny in person. Or at all.

I literally had to push this guy off of me so I could leave. He asked me if I knew my way out and I told him I did (even though I had no idea). I didn’t manage to get a picture of him because I thought that would have to lead to a picture WITH him, and that would not have been comfortable…possibly not even safe.

He will forever be known in my mind as the crazy old man from Tupelo. I hope I don’t meet a crazy old man from anywhere else. Or at least, not his brand of crazy. One is enough for me.

Now on to the second part of day 3. I made my way up to Memphis and got in around 1:30. I was trying to find Graceland, but ended up at Sun Records instead, and thought, “Eh, good enough.” So I popped in to view all the overpriced t-shirts, posters, cds, and other various musical goodies and see how much of a hole a tour would burn through me wallet. A whopping ten dollars! However, it was very much worth it. I got to see where people like Elvis, Johnny Cash, and Jerry Lee Lewis got there start. I even got to take a picture with the mic-stand Elvis used when recording his first hit, “It’s Alright Mama.” That was pretty B.A.

By the time the sarcastic tour guide (who had done waaaay too many of these tours) finished his routine and all the pictures were taken, it was bordering 4 o’clock. This meant I wouldn’t have any time to get to Graceland bc the ghost of Elvis goes to sleep at 4. Or at least, that’s when the last tour starts. And yes, I know, there is no ghost of Elvis. That would be weird. Who’s ever heard of a ghost of a living man?

Anyway, I saw the Peabody Hotel was just down the street, so I cruised over to Taco Bell to grab a light (I think quick would be a more fit term) snack and then perfectly parallel parked a block from the hotel and ate my bean burrito and triple layer nachos, steak-out style. When 4:50 rolled around, it was time to head in to the hotel because the ducks walked out of the fountain, down the red carpet, and into the elevator at precisely 5 pm. I dodged about 5 dodgy characters in the 1 block distance between my car and my destination.

By the time I got to the hotel lobby, a large crowd of approximately 100 people had already gathered around all the best picture points, leaving me stranded in the back with nothing more than a tall guy’s view of the scene. I tried to snap some pictures, but to no avail. Alas, the silver haired lady in front of me schemed to ruin all of my pictures, thinking her block of a head was what I really wanted photos of, not amazingly cute ducks walking in a line down a red carpet into an elevator. And she’s right…who would want to see that? Pshhh, tourists….

I surfed the net in a local gas station parking lot waiting for my lodgings for the night to call. I’m sure that sentence is not worded correctly, but it is 12:11 am and I only got 4 hours of sleep last night because I was in my car, so why don’t we just let is slide? Justin (the guy whose house I’m staying at) calls about 6:30 and gives me directions. I show up to find that his room-mate and best friend is also named Justin.

I couldn’t help but be reminded of me and Apple (aka Alex Van Zandt) who share a first name and a lifelong friendship. Apparently, the Justins have been friends since kindergarden, much as Apple and I have been. I thought it a bit bizarre, they agreed, and we moved on.

Since they were giving me a free place to sleep, I took them out to dinner. We got some moderately delicious pulled pork sandwiches from a place whose name I cannot recall. I’m pretty certain it started with a C, but don’t hold me to it. We got to know each other a bit better, and they both turned out to be pretty cool guys. We got back to the house, watched some Family Guy and Children of Men, and now it is bedtime.

I’ll be spending my day tomorrow at Graceland, so I’ll let you know how it goes when I get back.