Read Online The Year I Almost Drowned by Shannon McCrimmon - Free Book Online Page B

back.
    “Aren’t
    you
    glad
    I
    suggested
    we
    eat
    here?”

    “You’re
    not
    as
    dumb
    as
    you
    look,”
    he
    joked.

    I glared at him in a teasing manner. “We come from the same genetic pool.”

    “I’m
    well
    aware
    of
    that and am
    real
    glad
    of
    that,
    too.”

    My scowl became a smile. “Me, too. Thanks for letting me tag along on your trip.”

    “Who
    else
    could
    I
    go
    with?”

    I
    shrugged.

    “No, I mean it. Who else would’ve come on a road trip with me?” he said teasingly.

    We paid our bill and drove back to the hotel, ready to rest for the night before our
    big adventure to Graceland.

Chapter 5
    The next morning, we drove twenty minutes outside of the city of Memphis to get
    to Graceland, which was surrounded by outdated, lower-priced Elvis inspired
    motels and cheesy souvenir shops with flashy signs boasting “Original Elvis
    artifacts you’ll only find here.” A walled fortress bordered the property, making it
    feel more remote than it really was. In reality, a busy, widely used road was right
    outside of the property. We parked across the street in a large concrete parking
    lot and waited in a very long line to board the shuttle that would take us across
    the street to Graceland. The property was vast, encompassing more than
    fourteen acres of land. I was surprised to see so many people–especially so many
    foreign tourists. After so many years since his death, Elvis was still popular with
    people
    of
    all
    generations.

    Nana had purchased the tickets for us ahead of time since Grandpa was one of
    the most frugal people in the world. I’m sure she bought the tickets because she
    knew he would have pitched a fit about parting with the $64.80 it cost us to go on
    the
    Graceland
    Platinum
    Tour.

    The tour was self-guided. We were each given an mp3 player that gave tons of
    information about Elvis and his home. There was an eclectic group of people
    visiting: older women in tight and revealing clothing, men dressed up as Elvis
    complete with long sideburns and large-rimmed glasses, middle-aged couples
    with their bored teenaged kids, and senior citizens like my grandfather who had
    been
    Elvis
    fans
    since
    the
    olden
    days.

    Everything in Elvis’ home was completely decorated for the holiday season even
    though Christmas was several weeks away. Christmas trees and garland with
    twinkling colored lights were scattered throughout the mansion. Mistletoe hung
    above every entry way. Potted poinsettias were placed in each room. Even with
    the festive holiday flair, Elvis’ house was still gaudy and garish.

    Stained glass windows of peacocks, a white carpeted staircase, and gold accents
    were just part of the décor. The staircase leading to the second floor–which was
    completely off limits to visitors–had white rails with golden accents. Dark blue
    curtains with gold trimmings hung on the wall. All of the drapes in the home
    appeared heavy and were covered in bold colors from blue to gold. Portraits of
    Elvis were hung all over the home. There were television sets in every room. One
    room in particular had three television sets each tuned to a different network.
    Evidently, Elvis heard that President Nixon watched television the same way. The
    kitchen was carpeted and had white, Formica counter tops and ugly mustard
    yellow
    appliances.

    My grandfather moved slowly, listening intently to each word spoken on the mp3
    player. He stopped and gawked in every room, lingering longer than most visitors.
    I waited patiently for him in front of the Jungle Room. The room was decorated in
    green carpet from ceiling to floor and had lots of house plants and concrete statue
    monkeys to give that feeling of being in the middle of the jungle–a really bad
    jungle. Each piece of furniture was covered in a fabric that resembled fur. It was
    hard to tell if it was real or fake. I wasn’t able to actually touch any of the furniture
    since
    every
    room
    was
    roped
    off.

    I took a picture and sent