Whistlin' Dixie

Kudos to my co-workers wife Hillary at The Other Mama who wanted to do a blog carnival! This is my first one!

(You like long blogs, right?)

I enjoy a good roadie every once in a while. I’ve been fortunate to live close enough to some excellent travelling spots in the South. Memphis has always held an interesting place in my heart. When I was younger, my family packed up and visited Elvis’ home as well as the Memphis Zoo. I have no recollection of this trip but after seeing the photos from it, I know that it in fact did happen. I was probably 5 or 6. Where did these memories go and why can’t I remember? It must be all of the Diet Sprite mom fed us over the summer. Ugh….

This past weekend, my buddy Sara and I revisited the home, not the birthplace of Elvis….Elvis Presley (TCB Baby). I have recently discovered Randy Houser, a country music singer that wails as well as yells. He was playing at Minglewood Hall in Memphis and I fancied to see him howl. Now granted, I may not be your typical country music fan, and I may have just discovered him last month, but I am a dedicated “fan” once I’m on the wagon. I knew Sara would be down for this concert at a “Roadhouse” establishment. Sara has never been to Memphis nor did she know who Randy Houser was, so kudos to her for sticking it out. She and I enjoy people watchin’…and watched we did! Since this was her first visit, she brought her buddy Gnomey, the St. Louis Cardinals garden gnome, to share in the adventure.


Memphis is roughly 3.5 hours away (this is how we measure distances in the South…not in miles), making your way through Mississippi. Of note was our pit-stop in a small town called Slayden where the gas station didn’t seem “Boon Hickey” per Sara. The smell of waffle cones mixed with that of Chester’s Dark Meat Chicken was…how you say…interesting.

After a couple of hours Memphis was finally ours. After dropping off our bags, Gnomey, Sara, and I went to Beale Street. Sunday afternoons (chilly ones at that) leave Beale Street a little bare. We found some great Elvis items and posed accordingly

then ate at Dyer’s

who have been featured on the Travel Channel. No, we didn’t eat BBQ…sorry! The ducks at the Peabody Hotel got a visit from our trio as well as some photo opportunities.

I think the best part of our Beale Street experience was the blues players who kept yelling “YEAH” as if Lil’ John had taken over.

The concert was fast approaching. We had meet and greet tickets with Randy (we know how to handle this). The venue was very small and nice but needed some organization. Our MNG was to begin at 6 with the show starting at 9. As we approached the area for the MNG, we found two very anxious-to-make-new-friends folks. Were they brother and sister or boyfriend and girlfriend? Being from TN, I know they are one in the same. The guy was doing some con-ops on Sara, scoping her out and finding out some info. His best pickup line was “I know you are from the deep South with that accent.” Sara is from St. Louis and her accent is far from Southern. Just get her to say “box”. While she was getting courted by Casanova, the young lady was telling me many odds and ends about her day as well as showing me her signs she made for the show. I love me a super fan, how can you not?

As the MNG folks lined up to ready themselves for Mr. Houser, we were told it wouldn’t happen until 8. For 2 incredible hours, we watched folks mosey in and out of the establishment. This was an all ages show, so seeing little cowboys and families was fun. Finally, as 8 approached, we got in line with others who had been taking in some barley and/or yeast water. This is what you have been waiting for…I like a long buildup…

Mr. Houser finally comes out to mingle with his guests as well as take pictures and sign autographs. In the background, I notice a young blonde with a very low top who happens to have a signature on her upper *um* body as well as a tattoo on the other half of her upper body. For some reason, her hands are underneath these *um* upper bodies as if she is peacocking or flaunting what the Lord did NOT give her (bless her heart). More on her later.

I finally get my hand shook and a few words in as well as a picture taken with Mr. Houser. Sara did well with the camera under all of this pressure. We stayed around for a few minutes to hopefully get a few more words.

ENTER THE DRAGON. Let’s say you are wearing a turtle neck (I don’t know what you all wear so bear with me). Let’s also say you are female and want to get an autograph on your person. Where and how would you get this? One way is to lift up the shirt from the bottom, exposing your Victoria’s Secret (and horrible belly button tattoos) while yelling “Sign here!!!” Did I mention this was an all ages show? Oh yeah I did. The 9 year old boy standing next to me with his parents really got his money’s worth from the MNG. After an autograph was placed, she went away for a moment, probably to take a sip of whatever was running its course. Minutes later, up the shirt comes again and now she wants a picture taken showing proof that he in fact signed her person(s) all while exclaiming “Don’t worry, this won’t go on your Facebook Randy!” The 9 year old boy is still there, waiting on his “thumbs up” photo with the singer…again, witnessing THE DRAGON. The manager steps in and waters are calmed...for now...but THE DRAGON lurks…

The show has already begun and Sara and I take our places near the front of the stage. The opening bands, the Dirt Brothers and the Dirt Drifters (no relation) tear up some original country songs as well as a little Merle and Bruce Springsteen. At intermission, we see the young blonde at the corner of our eyes, still with her hands on her “upper bodies” yelling that it is her birthday. She’s seen fistpumping to the random country songs that are played in between acts. (I just added the word “fistpumping” to my MS Word dictionary.) Other Jersey Shore dance moves came out and good times a’watchin’ were had.

Let me not forget the girls in the very front of the stage that were walking around as if they were newborn colts trying to get their footing. At one point, one put the other on her shoulders and jumped around. This looked very uncomfortable and it did not bode well for the beers in their hands.

The main act is finally hitting the stage. Who introduces them but Jerry “The King” Lawler, the wrestling legend of Memphis.

The entire band donnes Lucha Libra wrestling masks and begins their set.

Some songs of note were “Midnight Rider” and “Momma’s Don’t Let Your Babies Grow Up To Be Cowboys”. Great set and a lot of sweat was put into that show.

On the way home from Memphis, Sara took a gander at my CDs as we decided to take it back…all the way to Now That’s What I Call Music 3 and 8. Yes…3 and 8. We are talking Backstreet Boys, Britney Spears, Destiny’s Child, KC and JoJo and maybe some vintage dance moves from 1998 and 2001. Music…makes the people…come together…