There was much more snow now, and much
less limo. Elvis had definitely left this building and vacated the entire
premises.
Tiny tracks were created in the snow as I pushed the cart to my car.
I quickly loaded up and returned to the highway, glowing all the way
back
home. The thought, "Was that for real?" continually recurred,
like a pop up ad on a computer screen. However, I refused to double click
the "x" box to delete such a luscious memory. This
was one memory worth saving to both right brain and left-brain.
II
Two weeks later while the afterglow was still fresh, my telephone rang
out. The voice on the other end sounded very familiar. "Hello
Rico, I met you at the store, this is Elvis calling. Are you busy with
The
Bunker Boys?"
Imagine how the gasp must have sounded through the airwaves. Trying
to compose myself, and return to the comfort level of our last encounter,
I managed to reply, "We're still jamming. I must say I never really
expected to hear from you again."
" I was just thinking." He continued. "There probably will not
be much traffic on the streets during The Super Bowl. Can you get The
Bunker Boys together at the studio this Sunday? Now is the proper time
for me
to record and release this song that I have composed. If I went back
to Nashville to record, there would be riots in the streets, if you
know what
I mean. Something tells me that you and The Bunker Bays can back me
up and also watch my back. Are you with me?"
"All the way, Elvis." I blurted out with conviction. "Let me
call them and get back to you. Do you have a number that you can leave
me?"
"
I'll see you and the boys Sunday afternoon. Let's make it
five o'clock. Oh yeah. One more thing, no one else is to be there or
to know about
this except The Bunker Boys."
