5-28-02

May 28, 2002

Visiting Graceland

(Did I mention the Gift Shop?)

May 28, was a Tuesday and it was rainy. It wasn't 'all the time' rainy, and I don't think in hindsight that we should have been that bothered by the rain. On the other side of the argument is the rebuttal that a convenience becomes a necessity if you don't pay careful attention. To elaborate, Tim and Marliss had driven down to Tunica and towed their motorcycle. I don't believe in towing a motorcycle, I think it is a violation of nature. However, since Tim and Marliss had the truck, and since it looked rainy, we decided to all ride in the truck. As I said earlier - in hindsight I think I would have preferred to ride, but oh well, we'll know that next year. Now that I have told you how we traveled, we can talk about where we traveled to, Graceland.

Graceland is the home of the now-dead legend Elvis Presley - if you don't know who Elvis is please stop what you are doing, stand up, and scream "I have been living under a rock" as loud as your lungs and vocal cords will allow. In addition to being Elvis' home, it is the cash cow for the familial leaches that remain in the Pressley gene pool. I know it sounds cynical, and I know you are thinking "Scott, for someone so normally buoyant, you seem a bit cynical about Graceland," but just wait.

Let me explain the procedures involved in visiting Graceland.

Enter Graceland visitor's center from main road - which is littered with a Taco Bell, a McDonald's and a couple of "Blue Suede Shoes" or similiarly named diners and motels. The visitor's center is directly across the aforementioned road from Graceland itself.

Exit vehicle, follow the big yellow arrows on the parking lot to the main entrance.

Walk through a Gift Shop to enter the line for purchasing a wide variety of purposefully confusing visitor's tickets "Would you like to see Elvis' cars? That will be an additional $8." Give up attempting to decipher which ticket is closest to what you want and just buy the most expensive one on the menu.

Leave the ticket counter and exit through a different gift shop -which suprisingly enough has completely different, although no less tacky, Elvis Pressley garage-sale fodder.

Enter a line for the bus to take you to Graceland - be sure to explain the size of your party to the person working the line, since there is a REALLY good chance that since you didn't purchase the tickets in lump sum (as in paying for them all at once) that your group will be split up.

The line person will hand you a nifty neato radio with headphones - do not attempt anything funny with these - they only play Elvis commentary and the English version gives you facts about Elvis in a voice that sounds like it had just gargled in whiskey, cigarette butts and gravel. - Side note, mine was in German at first, and it didn't sound nearly as simultaneously "down home" and "kick your hippie ass back to San Francisco" as the English version.

Once in line with headsets, proceed to goof around with them while waiting on the tour-bus (to take you on a 1/32nd mile tour - I am guessing Elvis fans are too categorically obese for a pedestrian walkway?) as so:

After the long drive to the Graceland main gate (I kid you not, most of the drive is out of the visitor's center parking lot and up the Graceland Driveway) - briefly stop and take a photo as so: This picture was actually snapped in a hurry as the tour person was quick to tell us there'd be plenty of time for pictures after the tour (there wasn't). I actually think they hurried us through the shots so that they could sell more post-cards, because damn near everywhere is "no photos please" or "you can take pictures in just a minute (in the gift shop)." Sidenote - the tour bus driver was so fat that her ass was flowing over the seatbelt and the seat itself - charming.

		As previously mentioned, they won't let you take photos inside. Having been inside Graceland I can now tell you why - the hideously tacky garbage that Elvis decorated his home with is so shoddy that the impact from flash photography will probably cause it all to dissolve. I am not joking - Graceland looks like the inside of a mobile home. That isn't even true, I have lived in mobile homes and WE didn't have that garbage. It is not just old, it is old garbage. The lamps, the mirrors, the furniture, it is all "gag me out" and low rent. Really low rent. Maybe they don't want you to take pictures because if it ever got out what a dive the inside of this place is, no one would ever visit. On the other hand, maybe his family pillaged all the good stuff when he died and replaced it with garage sale finds from the Memphis area.
		Out back is where Elvis and his family are buried. Now, truth be told, I can't look at a grave without having grave thoughts. I ponder the person in that box 6 feet below, what he was like, what the value of his or her life was, and what it is going to be like when people are looking at me the way I am now looking at the person entombed below me. It is a sobering moment to be sure. In this instance, I am also wondering where Elvis REALLY is right now and whether the poor-dumb-bastard they have buried down there was anyone of note. Here I am, being sober.

Here is a shot of the graves themselves:

What is really, really sad is the total and complete disrespect that seems to pervade the Graceland experience. I was surprised that there wasn't a "buy a little plastic Elvis corpse" gift shop right after seeing the gravesites. The gravesites are the end of the tour, and a short walk later we were waiting on our 'body fat challenged' bus driver to come and pick us up and return us to the Visitor's Center across the street.

While the Graceland Ranch / Mansion / whatever may have been restrained - there is simply no restraint in the Visitor's Center. Want to see Elvis' Cars? Go straight through the Gift Shop. Want to leave the Car Exhibit? Please exit through the Gift Shop. Want to leave the Gift Shop - the door is right around the corner past the Mini Gift Shop! I am not kidding, there is more over priced junk being shoved down throats than is even imaginable - it is the worst, most clichéd tourist trap I have ever seen.

Here is a picture of Garrett and I at a restaurant that served the exact same style of food that killed Elvis. I think we powered down a fried peanut butter and onion-rings hot dog and took this shot. If we only had access to some prescription narcotics our Elvis experience would have been complete.

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