Walking in Memphis- Day 5

I wake up, hungover, with only 4 hours sleep, and I want to die. But then I remember that Elvis is near.

N. and I stumble out of bed, manage to pack, drink pseudo-lattes from some cappucino machine in the lobby, and jet off with the guys to the airport, where we check in our luggage. Then it's off to Graceland...
We are so enthusiastic that we get there before opening, so we waste sometime in one of the many many Elvis giftshops. I spend the rest of my conference money on Elvis memoribilia (not all for me!), including this hot little number.



Elvis lipstick?! Come on... it's genius!
I am sad to say that I chose not to purchase the Elvis hot chocolate.

The guys decide that $25 was too much to pay for a tour of Graceland. N. and I vehemently disagree, so we went on an hour tour of the house and some of the grounds.



Elvis had some seriously tacky taste in decorating.

Hence the stained glass peacocks...


the serious 70s furnishings



the green shag carpet...


... on the ceiling!


and the wall decorated with fabric, rather than wallpaper


Seriously, though, Elvis is a really fascinating guy. I would really like to read a quality biography about him. I want to know how the drugs started. I want to know how the same shy guy who seemed to be taken over by the music became the gaudy Las Vegas showman. I'm actually a little sad about Las Vegas Elvis. He seems like such a farce.





While we leave Graceland, the wind blows some large chunk of something pokey into my eye, which gets lodged there for several hours. I get to the airport with one eye closed, and look like an utter fool dunking my face into a glass of water in the washroom in an attempt to get it out. I have to wait in the security line-up, wincing, because apparently eye drops are not allowed through security. As if four hours of sleep and a night of drinking weren't enough to make a girl looks awful... a watery twitchy make-up smeared eye always helps!

We fly to Detroit. I have the worst revelation of the day, when, thinking about how badly I want to be in my own bed, I realize I am on a three hour layover in Detroit. We fly to Seattle. I try to read coursework, but end up sleeping a lot, something I usually can't do on planes. We get to Seattle, and then drive back to Vancouver. I've been travelling for over 12 hours and I am very very happy to see my bed.