These photos were taken during a trip to Memphis when I was picking Marek up after he dropped off one of his loads. This is one of the many horse-drawn carriages that awaited us early that evening in Memphis.
Although I love horse-drawn carriages, I'm always a bit sorry to see them, because I've loved horses deeply since childhood, and many of the companies that operate the carriages in tourist areas have less than stellar reputations regarding the treatment of the horses in their care.
Let's pray this guy is one of the lucky ones who is given his fill of high quality hay, brushed nightly by someone who loves him, and treated well on a daily basis. I always pray and set an intention for their highest and best good.
One of our first destinations was the Flying Saucer Pub, which a good friend of ours told us about before we left Florida, as they carry literally dozens of microbrews on tap daily.
There are several of them across the country, but this was our first opportunity to visit one, and we were glad we did. Good food, good service, and a nearly unparalleled selection of beers; and the waitress was even nice enough to use my camera to take a photo of us, albeit not in the sharpest focus. We will definitely visit it again.
This vehicle greeted us upon leaving the pub, and cracked us up completely, so it was an obvious choice for #vehiclephotography. I named the photo "Police High-Speed Chase Vehicle a la Memphis." clearly inappropriately, but I couldn't help thinking about the high speed chases in cop shows, and what the cop driving this vehicle might do in such an event. Perhaps park it and go home.
In any case, my guess is that this used pretty much exclusively for giving parking tickets, though I may be wrong. So if you're jaywalking in Memphis, watch out. ;-)
Our next stop was an obligatory visit to Beale Street, and I was hoping to go to BB King's Blues Club, which Marek was marginally okay with, not being a big jazz fan, but he does like the blues. But when we got to Beale Street, nearing midnight, we had second thoughts.
With a long line to be carded and scanned, just to enter Beale Street, Marek seriously wanted to just go back to the hotel, as he was already really tired from traveling. He promptly nicknamed this "The Entrance to Hell."
It reminded me a lot of the gates they used to setup to get into Ybor City in Tampa for Guavaween. Not being a fan of crowds, especially drunken crowds, I was tempted to skip it too.
Ultimately, I convinced him to come with me to the club just for a couple of numbers, which is what we did. The club turned out to be dingy, drinks were predictably overpriced, and the music was just okay, as in listenable, but nothing to write home about. Fred Johnson, who used to play at BB Joe's in St. Petersburg, and at the Hurricane on the beach in Pass-a-Grille back in the day, was far better.
We stayed maybe half an hour, after which Marek was ready to go, and I was as well, having expected a much better blues band to be paying. It was disappointing, but perhaps we just caught them on an off night.
On our way out, however, we did develop a case of serious mixer envy. Once a musician . . .
On to bigger and better things . . . maybe.
This might have interested us on a night when we weren't both already tired, but on this night . . . not so much.
This, on the other hand, interested me a great deal. Having been born in Hollywood, California, I've always had a thing for the classic movie palaces from the Golden Age of cinema. This one, the Daisy Theatre, built in 1902, is the oldest movie house in Memphis that was built for a colored audience, according to signage outside the theatre.
We didn't go inside, but the exterior is in remarkable condition, and I was happy to see the old theatre being treated with respect. Of course, as they have converted the entrance into a bar, I'm not even certain that they still show films there, though you can rent the Daisy for special events, as you can see from the billboard at right of the entrance.
From there, we passed a few more bars on our way back to our car, and then on to our hotel.
So where are our photos of Graceland? We didn't go. Marek is not an Elvis fan, and while I like some of his work, I've never had any particular desire to see Graceland.
I'd actually be more interested in seeing the shotgun house where Jeff Buckley lived, while recording in Memphis prior to his death, but I probably won't wind up seeing that either.
We did go to a beautiful park the following day, where I did take a number of photos, but that's another story for another day. Steem on, everyone!
And I would love to hear your take in the comments.
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