I’m Goin’ to Graceland, Graceland

Some time ago, Jet got engaged to a wonderful girl who he suggests I call Ducky. Moonshot and I had sent them down to a beautiful bed and breakfast just outside of Eureka Springs, Arkansas and there, on a rustic cabin porch overlooking an Ozark Valley, he proposed and she accepted. Much chaos ensued.

Wedding locations were selected, tuxes and dresses were ordered, save the date invitations were sent, and a bachelor party was planned. And not just any bachelor party, mind you. As best man, I had been given the daunting task of coming up with a party suitable for my overly popular frat boy brother. I, the introverted book-nerd who doesn’t drink had been tasked with crafting an event that would impress roughly 40 young men who were already jaded with events that I would call pure hedonism. I was nervous to say the least.

So, I went all out. We chartered a bus from Saint Louis to Memphis and booked rooms two blocks off Beale Street for the weekend of April 28. The bus allowed beer and had a bathroom. They’d be smashed by the time they even saw Beale. Word was spread and the 40 seats on the bus were going fast. I was given one additional seat so that I could have a non-sloshed friend along. I chose Duke.

Duke is an odd bird when it comes to things like this. He sits in his house and plays video games. He orders out for food as often as possible and really never leaves a five-mile radius from his front porch if he can help it. However, once in a great while, his slumbering sense of adventure will rear its head and Duke will charge off into the sunset in search of excitement. He tends to blame these episodes on me. So, I was mildly surprised when Duke acted interested in the trip. I was even more surprised when he begged and pleaded with his wife Pinky to have a weekend away. Childcare was planned and he was given the all clear.

Suddenly, I was actually excited about the trip. Don’t get me wrong; most of Jet’s friends are really great guys. Shirt off their back types. One of his friends even helped me change out my kitchen sink a few months ago just to be nice. So I have no problem with them personally. But, I find I have less and less in common with them as the hours progress on their keg-fests. I have no problem with good drunken fun…it’s just that as the only sober guy in the room…I don’t get most of their jokes. Even after they’ve made the same joke four or five times…I continue to miss the humor. So, Duke’s presence would change the dynamics quite favorably.

Everything moving along swimmingly. Mid January had arrived, money was flowing in from the confirmed attendees, and plans were being finalized. Suddenly, the whole thing was thrown into a tailspin. And not just the trip, the whole wedding. With the wedding only five months away, Ducky suddenly found the idea of “til death do us part” more than a bit terrifying. And so, as the Eagles and the Falcons battled for the Conference Championship in the background, the wedding was called off.

No one talked about the Memphis trip for a few weeks. Its status in limbo, no one wanted to broach the subject with Jet until we found out who all was still in. When the topic did arise, Jet was adamant that the show must hit the road. Sure, it wasn’t a bachelor party anymore…but it was still going to be a blast. I agreed, and quickly turned over all control to him. I mean, I’m all for managing the stress of organizing 40 frat boys for my brother’s bachelor party, but if it’s just a fun trip to Memphis…he can plan that himself. I turned over my spreadsheets and contact info and paid my fee for the trip down there. However, many others jumped ship and wanted no part of the expense if the guilt of missing Jet’s bachelor party was no longer to be used as a weapon. The excursion shrank.

In retrospect, I’m not sure why I didn’t bail, myself. I mean, if Jet was planning a such a rip trip that was in no way wedding related…I doubt he would have even thought to invite me. And I certainly wouldn’t have begged to come along. That many people, that much alcohol, it’s just not my scene and Jet knows it. But I had Graceland I my brain by this point. And Duke had worked so hard to get a weekend away. He wasn’t going to let a little thing like a canceled wedding stand in his way of the adventure he’d finally geared up for.

The trip is smaller now. The large charted bus with the TVs and the bathroom no longer made sense so they downgraded to a school bus. And then when the folks who were once willing to drive up to St Louis from Springfield only to ride back south again on the bus revolted and said they’d just meet us in Memphis…we downgraded to a rented van. But that’s fine. In fact…12 people in a van sounds much more my speed than 40 people and a keg on a bus.

So, this weekend will find me on Beale Street with Jet, and Duke, and a host of Jet’s frat brothers. I will endeavor to allow myself to relax and enjoy. I will try not to mother hen them and if (as last time I was in a situation like this with Jet’s friends) the police are called…this time I’ll just take notes for my blog. Cuz this ain’t my show any more….I’m just along for the ride.

Details to Follow Next Week