My buddy X is a huge Elvis fan, so the second we decided to go to Tennessee he started about Graceland and going to Memphis. Well, I told him that after driving ten hours to get to the Knoxville area, I sure as shit wasn’t going to drive another seven hours across the state to see some of the gaudiest decorating from the 70’s…and then drive another seven back. Needless to say he got over going to Memphis after about ten minutes in the car on the endless ride down there. But, one day we were driving through the lovely little town of Pigeon Forge, and low and behold, X spots an Elvis museum. And reminded us that it was there every five minutes or so until we stopped.
The place looked about as cheesy as you can get and some of the locals sitting outside of it only added to the cheese. X confirmed my suspicions when he exited the walk through, telling us that he has more Elvis memorabilia in his living room than this place had. Go figure. But, he did want to get a TCB (Taking Care of Business (I like Elvis, but by no means am I a historian, so X tells me this was one of his catchphrases)) ring. So we peruse the gift shop and, to no avail, can not find a TCB ring.
As our group gathers under the museum sign, debating about what fast food restaurant we’d like to get indigestion from that evening, the locals that were sitting at the front door are heading out. It was a hillbilly husband (It is no exaggeration when I say he only had six teeth in his mouth) and wife and another couple they were friends with. Hillbilly wife hears X complaining about not getting the ring, and she starts chatting him up (because everybody in the south is freakishly friendly).
HBWife: What you lookin for? (You have to envision the HB parts with the thickest, trashiest southern accent you’ve ever heard)
X: Uh…
HBHusband: Shit, what he tryin to find?
HBW: You say you want a TCB ring?
X: (He’s looking towards the rest of us to get him out of the conversation. I’m not saying a word…none of the locals were very fond of me.) Um, yeah.
HBW: I tell you what, you got that internet thang? You can find anything on there.
X: (Poor guy doesn’t know what to say at this point, I’m just repeating “don’t laugh” over and over again in my head in an attempt to not get beat up and/or shot.) Yeah, I have it…
HBH: You don’t wanna buy that ring around here…
HBW: Yeah, he tried to find a pair of Elvis sunglasses and he bought ‘em for $24.99…next day he found him on that eBay for a dollar (She’s extraordinarily amused by this)
X: (Just smiling) Ok…thanks.
HBW: Ya know what, you like Elvis so much, you really gotta go see Matt Cordell. He’s amazin. He used to play here, but the owner screwed ‘em, was only givin him like ten dollars…but now, he plays down the street at The Smith Theatre. You should check it out…if you stay afterwards, he’ll come out and talk to you for like two hours…’bout anything you want.
X: Wow, two hours. That’s really nice. (I hear a smidge of smartass coming out, but the locals didn’t pick up on it. And everybody else is laughing along together)
HBH: Remember though, he’s a tribute artist, not an impersonator. There’s a difference.
HBW: He’s got a website and everything, look him up when you can. It’s Mattcordell.com
When I can? I don’t even want to tell this broad I can get “that internet thang” on my phone. She’ll probably think I’m an alien. Finally, though, out of the blue, I decide to speak…and it was apparently revolutionary, because everybody just stared at me for a second before they responded…
B: Is Cordell with a C or a K?
Staring…
HBW: Oh, honey, it’s with a C.
B: Thanks.
We said our goodbyes…and that’s when it dawned on me…the locals were so stunned, not by my talking, but probably because they weren't really that sure how to spell their favorite “tribute artist’s” name…and my friends were stunned, because they figured I should have know they didn’t know how to spell. And I was yet again reminded that I shouldn’t talk to the locals.
Here's a picture of our new friends below:
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