My traveling companion is 9 years old and we are going to Graceland
Not the news
Elizabeth St. John
Issue date: 3/26/07 Section: Life & Style
- < prev Page 2 of 2
On the highway down to Memphis, I saw a billboard for Graceland. I jokingly asked my father if he had included a visit to the Elvis museum, mansion and enormous gift shop in our trip plans. He just started laughing. "Yup," he answered.
At first I was miffed. I'm not an Elvis fan, and I personally think $30 to see Graceland is a bit too expensive. But then my dad explained why we were going there. We were on a mission, and it wasn't to learn about Elvis or increase our knowledge about rock n' roll. Nope. It was to take pictures.
You know how there is a poster of the "Doors of Dublin," and there's another of the "Doors of Boston?" Well, my dad and I planned to make a "Backdoors of Memphis" poster. And what better place to find a large concentration of big butts in Memphis than at Graceland?
Yes, my father and I actually toted our digital cameras around Graceland discretely, taking pictures of people's large rear ends. We actually didn't see nearly as many plump rumps as we thought we would, but we chalked it up to it being a Tuesday afternoon. I think all the rotund buns come out to Graceland during the weekends. Nevertheless, our poster is going to turn out quite well.
When it all comes down to it, my parents have taught me a lot of great ways to have fun. My dad has shown me how to take great pictures for posteriority … or is that posterity? My parents have taught me how to have a good time in bars. While I was in high school, my mom even bought my friends and me rolls and rolls of toilet paper to TP one of our teacher's houses, and she also taught us proper TP throwing techniques. My parents have also funded various other practical jokes, and they always seem up to having a good time. I guess this is why I've been taking my dad with me on my spring break trips lately. What good is going to Bermuda with a bunch of your peers if no one is there to lead the festivities and show you numerous ways to get into trouble? Trouble isn't my father's middle name. It's his legal first name, and that's why the next time I hit the road with my dad, we're going to Bourbon Street.
At first I was miffed. I'm not an Elvis fan, and I personally think $30 to see Graceland is a bit too expensive. But then my dad explained why we were going there. We were on a mission, and it wasn't to learn about Elvis or increase our knowledge about rock n' roll. Nope. It was to take pictures.
You know how there is a poster of the "Doors of Dublin," and there's another of the "Doors of Boston?" Well, my dad and I planned to make a "Backdoors of Memphis" poster. And what better place to find a large concentration of big butts in Memphis than at Graceland?
Yes, my father and I actually toted our digital cameras around Graceland discretely, taking pictures of people's large rear ends. We actually didn't see nearly as many plump rumps as we thought we would, but we chalked it up to it being a Tuesday afternoon. I think all the rotund buns come out to Graceland during the weekends. Nevertheless, our poster is going to turn out quite well.
When it all comes down to it, my parents have taught me a lot of great ways to have fun. My dad has shown me how to take great pictures for posteriority … or is that posterity? My parents have taught me how to have a good time in bars. While I was in high school, my mom even bought my friends and me rolls and rolls of toilet paper to TP one of our teacher's houses, and she also taught us proper TP throwing techniques. My parents have also funded various other practical jokes, and they always seem up to having a good time. I guess this is why I've been taking my dad with me on my spring break trips lately. What good is going to Bermuda with a bunch of your peers if no one is there to lead the festivities and show you numerous ways to get into trouble? Trouble isn't my father's middle name. It's his legal first name, and that's why the next time I hit the road with my dad, we're going to Bourbon Street.
Be the first to comment on this story