We met no gin-soaked barroom queens.

We did, however, see some sights.
We pulled out of Graceland and onto Elvis Presley Boulevard. That's just a great name for a road, right there. We had a vague idea of where we were headed -- we wanted to get a look at the outside of the Civil Rights Museum (it being in the hotel where MLK Jr. was shot and all,) and Dixie and 'Lope were interested in checking out some Beale Street touristy goodness. So we went in that general direction, trying to make sense out of the AAA city map. Instead, we just ended up following the signs put up by the Board of Tourism. But not before we passed a motel with a sign affixed to the outside proclaiming "No drgus. No prostitution." Now, if I were trying to think of a sign to put up to let people know that my establishment was a place where one might find crack and ladies of the night... that is probably what it would say. Just sayin.

We suddenly found ourselves driving along the river, where there were expensive-looking loft apartments everywhere. Not sure how that happened. And then we saw where we were on the map, and were able to steer ourselves to the civil rights museum. We weren't so much into more museumishness, post-Graceland, but we did see a woman set up by the entrance with a table and an umbrella and some signs, apparently protesting the whole idea of the museum. It wasn't entirely clear why -- something about dishonoring King's memory? Or perhaps the whole idea that Civil Rights belong in a museum, instead of in action in the real world?

Anyway, our last Memphis destination was Beale Street. The area has a reputation for being kind of a touristy "Blues-mall", but also being kind of cool, so we went to check it out. (Observe Liz and me, checking it out, left.)
Somehow, we found a parking space on the street RIGHT at the intersection of Beale and... whatever we were on. I have no idea how it happened, but it did. We took it as a sign, and got out to stroll the streets. It was pretty neat, I gotta say -- musicy and colorful. I was snapping some pictures, and a man passed by and said to me, "Take my picture, baby!" I considered doing so, and decided against it, lest he think I was likely to do whatever he suggested I do.

It was awfully toasty out, and we were getting a little hungry, so we decided to stop for a snack. Dixie felt the urge for a milkshake, so Liz suggester Dyer's, a place she'd read about that happened to be nearby. We went in, sat down, and ordered. (Drinks for me and Liz, and the shake for Dixie.) But the waiter came back and said he was sorry, but their freezer was broken, hence, no shake. Dixie put on her extreme sulking face, and said she wanted to leave, so we did. We wandered the streets for a while looking for another place to eat, but she would have none of a place that didn't serve milkshakes, so after rejecting several places, we finally followed her to Ben & Jerry's, where we waited at a table outside while she retrieved the precious shake. We decided to press on to Little Rock and get some dinner there, and back to the car we went. I stopped on the way to collect a T-shirt from the B.B. King blues club.
(Dixie: feel free to jump in and defend your milkshake craving.)
Of course, as we pulled out of Memphis and onto the highway, we discovered that I did in fact have a much better, more detailed map of Memphis. That I'd forgotten about. Because I'm really smart. You're welcome, guys.

Up next: crossing the Mississippi and adventures with pub food (and waiters!) in Little Rock, Arkansas!