Effing Elvis

Elvis Presley seems to run through my life like a thread. He creeps in and messes with me when I least expect it.

Let me give you a few examples:

Every summer, I play in beach volleyball tournament in Mexico, and last year my randomly-drawn teammate in the two-man tournament was a guy dressed up like Elvis --- the Vegas years. My brother and I drove cross-country a few years back, and visited Graceland with no real preconceived idea to do so. One of the first albums (you all remember vinyl, right?) I ever listened to in my impressionable youth was an Elvis Presley collection, at which time I was introduced to the mega-hit Hunka Hunka Burnin' Love. A few weeks ago, I and a group of friends ventured down to a local jam dive where the venerable El Vez was on stage. (Though he's not officially billed as such, El Vez could be called the Best Gay Hispanic Elvis Impersonator performing today.) I was once challenged to sing all the words to Viva Las Vegas on a local Las Vegas television news program. And just this past weekend, as I flew home from a trip to Boston, I was seated on the 737 right next to a regular Elvis impersonator.

So, as you can see, Elvis tends to turn up in my life over and over again, even though I don't necessarily seek him out.

At any rate, I only mention this peculiar Elvis connection because on the flight home, I was trying to sort through the events of the weekend to put them in some coherent and hopefully humorous order --- my goal being to add to my growing list of purely brilliant entries in this blog --- and I had this weird fantasy that the Elvis impersonator sitting next to me, though not Hispanic and gay, was going to somehow read my thoughts and add an All-Elvis soundtrack to my weekend hijinks. And soon, the fact that he was seated next to me, coupled with the fact that I was tired and hungover from the weekend began to play havoc with my sanity.

As we took off from Logan, I was thinking of a funny way to relate how my brother and I went to some trendy bars in Boston's financial district, and how in one of the lounges, an argument ensued over whether it was proper to wear white sox or not. This did in fact happen. And by the way, I was wearing white sox myself at the time, but with my biker boots on and jeans, no one could see them anyway, and I failed to see how the color of ones sox is important to anything save someone's over-developed sense snootiness.

But while I recalled the ridiculous, though amusing conversation, the tune of Blue Suede Shoes kept running through my mind. I just knew it would only be a matter of time before Elvis leaned over from the next seat and started singing:

Well, you can knock me down,
Step in my face,
Slander my name
All over the place.

Do anything that you think rocks,
But uh-uh, honey, lay off of my sox
Don’t you make fun of my plain white sox.
You can do anything but lay off of my plain white sox.

It's a crazy thought, I know, but all the Elvis interaction I've had in my life while not being a huge Elvis fan was really starting to freak me out. And so from there, my memories of the weekend became nothing but an Elvis-filled montage.

I recalled my brother's army buddy meeting us on the street, and was awash in the strains of Welcome to My World. For some reason my credit card wouldn't work at the front desk at our hotel, and when I thought about that incident, Heartbreak Hotel immediately struck up. In the Ghetto accompanied us as our cab ventured through some of the more low rent areas. As a friend told us that she thought a boyfriend of hers was secretly getting back with his ex, Suspicious Minds provided the musical backdrop. The playful Too Much Monkey Business bebopped as a young married woman tried to hide her wedding ring while talking to all the boys in our crew at a bar. Are You Lonesome Tonight could be heard playing softly as my friend called his girlfriend back home in another state.

And it went on and on like that. I couldn't get the tunes to stop playing along with my memories. I was about to punch the Elvis impersonator. I was literally about a second away from turning to a stranger on a plane, and landing a karate chop right to his Adam's apple.

I had visions of air marshals tackling me and the flight being rerouted, and I could swear Don't Be Cruel started playing over the inflight intercom. And they would no doubt take me to jail, where of course I would be led to my cell while Jailhouse Rock echoed through the cell block.

But then thankfully I regained my composure. The impersonator didn't really have anything to do with it. He was just an innocent performer on his way home. It was all in my head. It was me. There was something wrong with me.

Was there a cabin leak? Did the flight attendant put something in my stale turkey sandwich? Or had I destroyed one too many brain cells in the pubs and bars of Boston?

Dejected, I stared out the window of the plane and, as I gazed at the moon, I distinctly heard Elvis singing Blue Moon of Kentucky. Oh my god. It started all over again. The songs are accompanying more than just my memories. I was about to lose it.

"Concentrate, Sam," I thought. "Concentrate. You don't want to cause a scene."

"Okay. Okay. Umm . . . Oh, I know. I'm getting more frequent flier miles for this trip. That's a good thing, right? Yeah, that's it. Think of the present, and Elvis will leave you alone. I'm covering a lot of territory. Lot's of the country."

Well, I left my home in Norfolk, Virginia
California on my mind
I straddled that Greyhound
And rode it into Raleigh

"No. No. No . . . . Umm . . . Umm . . . The holidays. Yeah. The holidays. Uhhh . . . It'll be good to spend time with the family. The holidays are fun."

I'll have a blue Christmas without you
I'll be so blue thinking about you

"Nooooo!!!!"

I had to move. The Elvis impersonator was controlling my mind. He had reached into my head and messed with my brain somehow. I looked at my reflection in the window. Was my hair now jet black? Did I have long sideburns? Oh, my god, where did this cape and huge belt come from?

The anxiety was building. My mind reeled. It's Now or Never.

Arrrrrggggggggghhhhhhhh!!!!!!!

So, I got up to find an empty seat in the back of the plane. I told the Elvis impersonator he could have my window seat if he wanted it.

Fortunately, there was no song. There was no song when I got up. I couldn't believe it. Maybe it's over. Everything's going to be okay.

But as I edged out into the aisle, the Elvis impersonator looked at me and said:

"Thank you. Thank very much."

Ladies and gentlemen, Sam has left the building!