Walking in Memphis-Day 2

Day 2:
I wake up at what is equivalent to 5am my time. We take a trolley to the pre-conference


where I consume ridiculous amounts of coffee and nearly fall asleep in a talk on the nature of American nationalism. However, it also becomes rather apparent that I can't deny my nerdy nature, as I find myself getting excited and almost clapping about research findings. After a steady 8 hours of learning, there's a reception and poster session with free wine. Apparently I am way too excited over this, as I line up for wine before the official pouring has started. The bartender is convinced I am a wino, and offers me extra glasses and bottles each time I come back, and makes swigging gestures at me across the room. All this despite the fact that I only had two glasses.

We then go out for dinner at a Mexican restaurant where they serve marguaritas roughly the size of my head. We had who I thought at the time was the most fabulous waiter on the planet. N. and Mr. Self-Disclosure argue over Johnny Cash, L. pops back hot peppers like they are potato chips, and I just watch it all in my sleep-deprived and tequila induced state.

N. and I then decide to head down to Beale Street for "just one drink" with some other people from the conference. Beale Street is one of the only places in downtown Memphis that actually shows much of a sign of life. It is actually really cool... they close off the street, and you could just wander to different bars with drinks in hand. All the bars are lit up by big flashy neon signs, and all have live music. Guys play trumpets on the street and try to lure you into their bars. Apparently every bar specializes in various pig-based appetizers.






I'm sure you can tell where this is going. The entirety of Beale Street was essentially taken over by graduate students and young profs. I run into several people I had met at prior conferences, and it was so easy to meet new people, as you had a nice common point of introduction. Anyways, "just one drink" rapidly turns into several, and we end up going to at least four bars. Two play blues. One has an absolutely killer Johnny Cash cover band. Johnny declares my beauty over the microphone after I put some money into his guitar case. A club has a band which plays Top 40 music like Usher and Ludacris. Though I am normally skeptical of such things, I shake my ass like there's no tomorrow to their version of SexyBack (and, OMG, J.T. is totally from Memphis!). I find out that Tennessee is apparently the home of religious bathroom stall grafitti. A Texan apparently falls in love with me. A guy who studies booty calls tries to convince me of the virtues of non-monogamy. My screwdrivers taste like they have three shots in them, meaning they likely have about six! And so on and so forth...