| An Elvis Encounter of the Third Kind
Unaware of an approaching snowstorm, until I heard the weather forecast
on the radio, while driving east from Chicago, on
January 8, 2004, I exited I-94 East at the second Kalamazoo, exit. The wind
seemed to pick up its pace after pushing out east from
Lake Michigan and the Windy City. Snow flakes were lightly
falling, but melting on impact with the concrete, metal and glass
surrounding me. The thick white blanket packed in the ominous
clouds about to drop was probably six hours away.
As I turned left off the freeway, I could see the bright lights
and the flow of cars coming in and out of the mega Meijer super
store My plan was to shop quickly and get back on the road. I
could then easily make it home and have a stock of provisions to
survive the oncoming polar onslaught. After parking my Mustang
and securing the lock on my steering column, I grabbed a cart and
started pushing against the wind, toward the nearest entrance. As
I turned my head away from the fury of the nor'easter,. I saw a limo
in the far corner of the parking lot. I thought it a bit odd see a
limo on these grounds; however that thought receded into the
background as my mission of reaching the front door became
more paramount.
I nodded as I passed the friendly greeter at the front door. As I
made my way to the grocery section, I began to make a mental list
of only necessary items, in order to expedite my stay. I could hear
the non-invasive melody of the artificial "muzak" system floating
through the air, certainly not the sound track of my choosing. The
mundane beat and progressions was in complete discordance with
the urgency of my task. The revving rpm's of my shopping cart
were suddenly downshifted as I turned onto aisle 6.
Approaching from the opposite side of the aisle, smoothly
strolling in a pair of snakeskin shoes, black leather pants, and
wearing a pair of tinted designer sunglasses, was an impresslve
macho presence. As we drew closer, his shopping cart stopped
suddenly. The man began to fill his cart with jars of crunchy |
peanut butter. There were also several loaves of bread,
ten containers of honey, and a sizable number of both green and ripe bananas.
When I pulled up alongside, I was able to take a closer look. As I scanned
the memory banks of my mind's photo revue, and quickly calculated the contents
of the shopping cart plus the limo out in the parting lot, the revelation
was off the Richter scale. I was in such a hyper state of panic. I thought
that any second there would have to be a call over the loudspeakers for
a cleanup in aisle 6. "Could it be?" That thought sounded so
loud to me, I was surprised he didn't hear me.
"Excuse me," blurted out from my mouth. "Are you he, uh,
I mean him, um, I mean king, the king..." who knows what other words
babbled forth from my lips.
"
What is it, young man?" he spoke with a definite southern charm. By
the way he looked at me, I knew that he knew that I knew who he was.
"
It's just if you're him... am I dreaming." I seemed to scream out.
He brought his index finger up to his lips and quietly spoke, "Son,
I'm trying to keep a low profile. I'm just picking up some supplies
to ride out the storm." He then continued to load his
cart with peanut butter.
"You're my biggest fa...I mean I'm your biggest fan."
"
Well, son. To be honest with you, I truly do miss my fans. In fact,
I have been trying to think of a way to contact and communicate my true
feelings
to everyone who still thinks about me."
"Elvis," I whispered. "We all miss you!" There were tears
in my eyes. "Man! Your music is still fresh and fills the airwaves
of cars, clubs, and homes all over the world. The band that I play
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