As you can probably tell, I was more than a little excited. Not that I'm a down and out Elvis fanatic--I don't know every album he ever made or anything--but there's something about Elvis that can't help but make you giddy. Anyway, I did my homework and found out that the last tour of the day at Graceland was at 3:30 and that the whole place was closed on Tuesdays in the winter. Well, it was Monday, so we only had one shot at this and we had to get going early. We were greeted, of course, by snowy grayness and frozen-over bikes.
(See the icicles? The California girl in me was awestruck.)
Our drive out of Oklahoma and into Tennessee looked, almost exclusively, like this
and this
(Good morning!) and this
I felt like I were in a snowy forest wonderland during those slow, morning hours. I mean, who knew that part of the country could be so beautiful? It made me want to leap out of the car, bound through the snow, shake the boughs of the tree, throw snowballs in the air, and make endless lines of dancing snow angels.
But, on we went. After another lunch of Subway (I'm started to feel like I should get paid for endorsements here...) and a scenery change from snowy forest to dry suburban ground, we finally reached Memphis and--tada!--Graceland.
We made it by 3:00, splurged on the "Platinum Tour" instead of the mere "Mansion Tour" (which didn't even take my begging and pleading the boy--he wanted to see the planes), bought the obligatory cheesy souvenirs in the overpriced gift shop (I mean who doesn't need a $10 Elvis beer cozy?) and let ourselves be ushered into the shuttle, complete with audio guide for each of us, that would whisk us off to the mansion...across the street. It was perhaps at this moment, sitting in the shuttle as we waited for the light to turn green and realizing that I could, easily, have walked over there already, that I knew I loved Graceland.
Arrived and unloaded, we were instructed not to take pictures outside the mansion yet, but rather to rush inside. (The rules of guided tours never cease to amuse and puzzle me.) I don't want to ruin the place for those of you who haven't visited and/or plan to, but I have to share some of my highlights.
The living room, and the first room your audio guide instructor tells you to view. I now want peacock stained glass as my room divider...
Me, going down the stairs to the basement rooms. Yes, the ceiling of the staircase was mirrored. Yes, I was in love.
My absolute favorite room. It's got everything a person could need, after all--a monkey, a lightning bolt, a harsh color scheme, and a couch the size of most apartments. Not to mention not only one but several sunk-in TVs for everyone's viewing pleasure.
My second favorite room--matching fabric on the couch, pillows, walls, and ceiling. Somebody hire me Elvis's interior designer stat.
The Jungle Room. I would leave it at that, but then you would be left without the knowledge that the aptly chosen green carpet is not only on the floor, but on the ceiling as well.
After seeing his living quarters, we were guided to the racquetball house in the back (the wonders don't cease here, I'm telling you), the pool and garden, and the garage-turned-award room.
Just one hallway of one of the award rooms. The boy was even awed.
I aspire to have a similar self-portrait one day...
And finally, some more awards before we were finally allowed to take pictures of the outside.
We then got shuttled back across the street (to my giggling delight) to tour Elvis's Automobile Museum, his two custom airplanes, an Elvis in Hollywood exhibit, a Fashion King exhibit, and two others that we didn't make it to (well, opted not to go to). I found the cars and motorcycles, which ranged in colors from pink to purple, hilarious, complete as they were with audio commentary by Lisa Marie; the boy loved the planes (where, we learned, Elvis had a bar installed but only for his guests--Elvis didn't like the taste of alcohol but did love Diet Dr. Pepper and Poland Springs water).
Sufficiently fulfilled (or in the boy's case, Elvised-out) we opted to leave and continue on our merry way to Nashville with the hopes of only one more day standing between us and New York City.
Farewell, Blingdom.
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