People are really helpful here. When we spotted a parking place at a meter on Beall Street, a guy stood there on the sidewalk gesturing as if it was his spot, and he was generously offering it to us. We figured he was looking for a buck. When we got out of the car, he suggested that $5 was appropriate for his assistance. Inflation is affecting everyone's business. We compromised.
Thursday we'll do the pilgrimage to Graceland, but so far, Elvis appears to be less of a presence here than he was in Nashville. In our hotel there, the photos on the wall in the lobby were head shots of the King, like Joe Biden in the post office or Kim Jong Il everywhere. At RCA Studio B, we were invited to commune with Elvis' ghost as the lights were dimmed and the master tape of "Are You Lonesome Tonight" played to recreate the 4 a.m. recording session there. The piano, we were told, was Elvis' favorite (Chet Atkins wouldn't sell it to him, though). His Cadillac with gold door handles and 40 coats of diamond-dust-and-fish-scale paint is in the Hall of Fame. Here there seems to be more celebration of the blues - more Stax than Sun, more river than hillbilly. Come to think of it, from the top of the pyramid you'd look to the horizon without seeing a hill.
Driving so far has been easy. Soon we begin the long stretches until we get to Santa Fe.
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