Walking In Memphis

by: Courtney

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Put on my blue suede shoes

And I boarded the plane

Touched down in the land of the Delta Blues

In the middle of the pouring rain . . .

'Walking In Memphis' by Marc Cohn

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The rain beat down in sheets as Doug pulled into the parking lot of the Holiday Inn. He was exhausted. It was after 11 o'clock at night and he had been driving the whole day. He and Carol had left Kansas City at around lunch time, right after check out time at the hotel they were in there. They had figured they'd stop for dinner along the way, maybe do a little site seeing, and end up making it to Memphis by dark. Things hadn't gone quite as planned. They'd gotten on US 70 and headed to St. Louis where Carol had insisted they go up in the Great Arch to see the Mississippi and get a real view of the city. That had taken an hour. Then, they'd stopped at the Anheiser-Busch brewery. Free pretzels and beer . . . Doug should have known that would be a mistake. And, as if that weren't enough, St Louis was a baseball town. Carol had practically had to drag Doug out of Busch stadium's museum.

Finally, by late afternoon, they were back on the road, taking US highway 55 into Tennessee. They had talked a lot as they made their way through southern Missouri, replaying the dance the previous night in that Kansas City jazz club and the moments they shared in front of the fountain. Doug had to admit, no matter how tired he was of driving; he was having a wonderful time being with Carol.

He was very glad to be getting out of the car, though, as he pulled into a parking spot outside the hotel. Carol was asleep, curled up next to him with her head on his shoulder. He looked over, hating to wake her when she looked so peaceful but knowing neither of them really wanted to sleep in the car in lieu of a nice, warm bed . . . even if it was a hotel bed.

He nudged her gently. "Carol?" She didn't respond. "Carol, rise and shine, we're here," he said. Still, Carol said nothing. She just moaned and grumbled something about 'five more minutes' then snuggled closer to him.

Doug needed a new tactic. His face lit up as a prospect crossed his mind. He grinned slyly, then leaned down to place a kiss on Carol's lips. At first, she didn't move. Then, almost as if in a dream, she started kissing him back. She was still half asleep, but the more they kissed the more awake she became. Finally, Doug broke off the kiss and Carol opened her eyes to smile at him. "I could get used to that kind of wake up call," she murmured.

"Well, let's get used to it in a nice warm, dry hotel room, shall we?" he asked.

"Sounds like a plan. My neck is killing me!" she moaned as she reached up to rub it. "How long have I been sleeping anyway? What time is it?" she asked.

"It's getting close to midnight," he replied. "You fell asleep right after we passed over highway 57. That was about three hours ago almost."

"Sorry . . . you must have been bored driving all this time with no one to talk to," she said.

"Nah, it gave me some time to think about things," he said. Adding, "Besides, we'll have plenty of time over the next few weeks to talk. I don't want us to get sick of each other just yet." He chuckled.

"Sick of each other? Are you sick of me?" she asked with a grin.

"No way," he responded and gently kissed her. As he held her in his arms, everything, even the torrential downpour outside the car door, seemed a million miles away.

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"Good Lord!" Doug cried as they scurried into the hotel room. Both he and Carol were soaked to the bone. "I can't believe this storm," he said as he set their bags beside the king-sized bed.

"Well, you were the one who wanted to come to Memphis," she reminded him.

"Carol, we're basically touring the United States . . . how can we *not* stop by the home of the King of Rock and Roll?" he said.

Carol rolled her eyes and laughed. "What is it with you and Elvis, anyway?"

"The man was great! I mean, deep-fried peanut butter sandwiches aside, he was an inspiration. He was . . . he was . . . well, the king!" Doug said, sounding as though he couldn't believe Carol didn't understand why Elvis and Graceland were important landmarks on their cross-country trek.

"Okay, whatever you say," she replied as she slipped a dry nightgown over her head. "So, Hound Dog, what's on the agenda for tomorrow?" she asked.

Doug, who had stripped out of his wet T-shirt and jeans while they were talking and was now wearing a dry pair of boxer shorts, wrapped his arms around her and smiled. "What else Priscilla? Graceland!"

"Oh jeez!" she giggled. "You are *too* much!"

In his best Elvis impersonation, Doug replied, "Thank you, thank you very much!" before falling onto the bed with her in his arms and picking up where they had left off outside in the car.

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"Carol, hurry up!" Doug called from his seat on the bed. He was dressed and sipping coffee while he watched the morning news and waited for Carol to finish up in the bathroom. He was getting a little inpatient, to say the least.

"Hold your horses," she called back. "What's the rush anyway? It's not like the Jungle Room is going anywhere," she said.

"We have a lot of ground to cover," he called back. "I've been looking through these tour guide books and surprisingly enough there is a lot more to Memphis than Graceland."

"Thank God for small favors," Carol muttered as she gave one last swipe of mascara to her eyelashes and nodded her approval to her reflection.

"What was that?" Doug asked as she walked out.

"Nothing, let's go," she said. Doug smirked but didn't reply. He just walked out behind her with his keys and his tour guide booklets and smiled.

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"Man, I can't believe this!" Doug said as they walked back to the car. It was only 9am.

"It's alright, don't worry about it," Carol said. "Hey, at least the rain stopped," she offered. It was a beautiful, sunny day already.

Doug ignored her. "How can they be closed? Jeez, today of all days," he said.

"It's Tuesday, who knew they'd be closed on Tuesday? Besides, it's not the end of the world. We'll just stay another night and come back tomorrow, that's all," Carol said.

"Yeah . . . I just really wanted to do this today," Doug pouted.

"Oh, stop whining. You said yourself there was more to Memphis than Graceland. Why don't we go see for ourselves? Get out your tour books and we'll go site seeing. Okay?"

Doug smiled. "Yeah, okay. Sorry Carol . . ."

"It's okay," she said as she slipped her arm around his waist and he wrapped his arm around her shoulder. They walked back to the car together, both smiling.

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"There it is, slow down," Doug instructed. Carol was driving so Doug could navigate with his tour books. Carol pulled to a stop by the curb in front of a large, brick building. "Wow, it's not what I expected really," Doug said.

"What did you expect?" she asked as she looked up at the building, still confused as to what the fuss was about to begin with.

"Well, it's Sun Studios . . . where Elvis recorded . . . I don't know. I guess I expected it to be . . . bigger."

"It's just a recording studio. Besides, I'm sure there's stuff inside we can look at," she offered.

Doug shook his head. "Nah, let's just go to the next place. I'm hungry anyway. You feel like grabbing breakfast?"

"Uh . . . sure," Carol said. "Hey, what time is it?" she asked.

Doug looked at his watch. "Almost 10:30 . . . why?"

"I know what we can do," she said.

"What?" he asked.

She grinned. "You'll see."

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"A hotel? You brought me to a hotel? We're gonna see plenty of hotels in the next few weeks, trust me," Doug said as they walked into the lobby of a very fancy hotel.

"This is not just any hotel," Carol replied.

"What's it called again?" he asked.

"The Peabody," Carol told him.

"The Peabody . . . what did I read about this place . . ." Doug wondered aloud. He looked around the lobby and noticed there were an awful lot of people milling around. "What's going on around here?" he whispered to Carol.

"The ducks," Carol replied.

"Ducks?" he said, confused. Then, he remembered what he had read about this place. "The ducks! Carol, you brought me to see those silly ducks?" he said.

"Oh, hush," she said. "It'll be cute. And, don't worry, it only lasts a few minutes. It won't take long. I just want to see it," she said.

"Okay, fine," he said and stood back with her to wait for the show to begin.

The Peabody ducks were a famous attraction in Memphis, although Doug hadn't quite figured out why. They were actual ducks that lived on the roof of the Peabody Hotel. Everyday at 11am and 5pm the elevator brought them down the 20 some story building and into the lobby where they walked down a red carpet and into a large fountain in the center of the room. All the while, a crowd was always gathered to watch the phenomenon. 'They're just ducks,' Doug thought as he watched more and more people file in around them. It seemed like such a silly thing to wait to see.

Finally, the clock struck eleven and the elevator doors dinged and opened up. Threads of the song 'The King Cotton March' filled the lobby as the ducks filed out and made their way down the carpet. Amazingly, the animals walked straight past the throng of spectators and waddled into the fountain. They swam around for a few minutes as people snapped pictures and crowded in for a closer look. Then, a few minutes after eleven, the music started back up and the ducks climbed back out of the pool and returned down the carpet to the elevator where they were lifted back up to rest until the 5pm show.

Doug stared after them in amazement. "That," he said to Carol, "was without a doubt the strangest thing I have ever seen!"

Carol grinned. "Aren't you glad we came?"

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"So, what now?" Doug asked as he finished the last of his cheesecake. He and Carol were sitting in a little café inside the Peabody Hotel called Mallards. They had both opted for the cheesecake and coffee.

"I don't know, any suggestions?" Carol asked.

"Nope, you know what I want to do," he replied. "I just sort of figured, since it'll take most of tomorrow to do all the Elvis stuff and I basically planned all that, that today you could decide what we do."

"Really? You mean, you're willing to let me plan your entire day, even after the ducks?" she giggled.

"Yes, even after the ducks," he laughed back.

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"The Dixon Gallery and Gardens," Doug read from the sign as they entered a gravel driveway and approached a booth in front of the gated parking lot ahead. "What is this place?"

"Just what it sounds like, an art gallery and botanical garden," Carol replied. She saw the look he was giving her and added, "Don't worry, no one has ever died from overexposure to culture," she laughed.

"Very funny . . . I'm as into 'culture' as you are," he replied.

"Oh really?" she said. She turned to the ticket booth and gave the man standing there enough for two admissions. He handed her two tickets and pushed a button that opened that gate to allow them to drive into the parking lot. "You know Doug, Impressionism is not limited to the actors on Saturday Night Live." Carol laughed and Doug just gave her an indignant smirk.

"So funny . . . hilarious. Just wait until we get to Graceland. I'm going to every Elvis gift shop on the block," he said.

"Okay, I surrender, I'm sorry," she said. She leaned over in the seat and gave him a long kiss. "Ready to expand your horizons?" she asked.

"Ready as I'll ever be," he replied and got out of the car to follow her up to the museum.

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The gallery wasn't any more fun than Doug had expected. Sure, there was some great artwork, but he had come to Memphis to see black, velvet renditions of the King . . . not the Warda Stevens Stout collection of 18th century German porcelain.

Carol looked up from a painting by Jean-Louis Forain to see Doug, looking bored, but trying very hard to appear interested in a 100-year-old landscape painting. She smiled a little; at least he was making an effort. Finally, Carol decided to put him out of his misery. She walked over and took his hand and started leading him out of the room they were in and back through the museum.

"So, which room are we headed to now?" Doug asked.

"The exit," Carol said.

"Exit? We, we don't have to leave, Carol. I'm fine . . . really. Like I said, this is your day."

Carol stopped and smiled at him. "That's sweet Doug, really, but . . . well, I'm sort of sick of staring at old paintings to tell you the truth. How about we go for a quick walk in the gardens then we head out to lunch somewhere?"

"Sounds great," Doug said with a smile and the two walked hand in hand out of the museum doors.

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The gardens of the Dixon gallery had a strange effect on Doug. Though the austere paintings and sculptures in the museum had held no wonder for him, somehow the statues and sculptures that dotted the 17-acre, wooded park-style gardens were very different. He held Carol's hand and they followed the dirt paths around the lawn together. Several times, when Doug would linger in front of a sculpture or a gaze for just a little longer at the extraordinary view, Carol found herself surprised by him. She never thought there were things about this man she didn't know, but she was learning how wrong she was as their walk continued.

By 1 o'clock, they had made it nearly the full way around the paths. They approached yet another clearing and saw a bench beside a garden of perennials. "Let's sit here for a minute," Doug suggested. Carol nodded and they sat together on the bench.

A sign nearby called this The Whispering Bench and invited visitors to sit and enjoy nature for a moment as they toured the grounds. In front of the bench, on the side opposite the flower garden, was a man-made reflection pool; all around, tall trees grew and sheltered the area from the eyes of any other tourists who might be around.

"This is nice," Doug said as he laced his fingers through Carol's. He turned to look at Carol and she smiled softly, obviously enjoying just being there with him. Doug brought his other hand up to touch her face and caress her pale, smooth cheek. "I'm really glad we came here," he said.

"Me too," Carol replied softly. Doug leaned in and kissed her, wrapping his arms tightly around her and pulling her close.

"I love you," he whispered as their mouths parted.

"I love you, too."

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The rest of the day had gone by quickly. Doug and Carol had visited a few souvenir shops, walked around the city a little, and had lunch at a fast food place. They had come back to the hotel by late afternoon to rest for a while before going out to dinner that night.

Doug sat on the bed and absently watched the television as he waited, yet again, for Carol. "I should have requested a room with no bathroom in it," Doug called loud enough for Carol to hear him.

"Yeah . . . you would have been lonely staying by yourself though," she laughed.

Doug rolled his eyes but grinned. He turned back to the TV. He'd managed to find a station that played all Elvis movies and the current offering was 'Viva Las Vegas'. Ann-Margaret was on the screen in a pink and white Jeep.

"Are you still watching 'Blue Hawaii' or whatever?" Carol asked when she walked into the room to look for her shoes. Doug pointed in the direction where she'd left the pair of black, chunky heels she planned to wear with her jeans. She nodded and headed over to get them.

"No, 'Viva Las Vegas'," Doug replied to her question.

Carol shrugged. "What's the difference anyway? They're all the same. What's that one about?" she inquired.

"Ann-Margaret," Doug replied.

Now it was Carol's turn to roll her eyes. "What is it with men and Ann-Margaret anyway?" she asked as she flipped off the TV.

Doug got up and grabbed the car keys. He, too, was dressed in jeans and he wore a button up, navy blue shirt. Carol had on a black tank top with a black lace shirt on over it that she had left unbuttoned. "It's just one of those things I guess. Hormonal teenage crushes are not soon forgotten," he said with a wink.

She smirked and shook her head. "Men . . ." she muttered. "So, are we ready?"

"Yep, let's go," he said and he held the door opened then followed her out.

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Go to part two

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