Editorial
Front Page - Friday, December 25, 2009
Are We There Yet?
Long ago and far away
Jay Edwards
I was in the desert on August 16, 1977, in the oasis known as Vegas. That was the day the music really died, way back east in the Mississippi Delta, in a town much closer to my home, when the heart of the King of Rock and Roll stopped beating. After that day, towns like Vegas and Memphis, or anywhere people like to shimmy and shake, would never be quite the same.
It was my first and only trip to the entertainment capital of the universe, to the city that offered a variety of adult pastimes for those of us who were considered adult.
At 20 years and 3 months, I qualified, in some circles. My father was not one of those circles however and I still remember the evil eye he was giving me as I rode down the street in the back seat of my friend Monty’s Cutlass Sierra, as we began our westward drive of around 27 hours.
Monty is Monty Chrisco. We were fraternity brothers. Like Elvis, Monty hails from Memphis too. And while he wasn’t a king, Monty did have a little brother named Count. I don’t make this stuff up.
The third traveler with us on our late summer journey was Kyle Hudson. Kyle is from Hot Springs and had been a bet runner for the high rollers in the Jockey Club at Oaklawn Park. He had also been known to study a poker hand pretty well, before the game became a game show.
Of the three of us I was the least skilled in various games of chance, so for me it was just more an adventure out of the house. I had almost 300 dollars with me. Surely that would be more than enough for three days. Besides, Kyle had told me, we were going to win big. I had told that to my Dad in my pitch a few days earlier. His evil eye had been busy that week.
We had left around 5:30 in the afternoon, which meant we were just over the Oklahoma line when the sun slipped below the river valley horizon. We had 25 hours to go.
I honestly don’t remember too much about the details of the trip. It was easy going out, as adventures like that usually are. We knew that gold and silver were waiting for us. So we headed west and laughed aloud with each other about the possibilities. What could be better? We were three 20 year olds on our way to Vegas. It was the week before we would head back to college at Fayetteville. If there were worries on the planet, they weren’t in Monty’s Cutlass.
But of course no joy lasts forever, and ours was sucked from the car somewhere in Arizona. It was a brush with tragedy, when the reflection you have stared at so long in the dark glass changes quickly to a smiling skull of death.
I was not driving; it was one of those other idiots. It couldn’t have been me because I was in the back seat. And you can’t drive from the back seat, right? I heard the sharp scream from the front, which was followed by another louder one. Then I joined in. We sounded like John Candy and Steve Martin.
We were looking at a large white van, like one of those cargo vans that transports those people who always need transporting. Suddenly it was there, on us, impossible to miss. We waited for the explosion and the end that would follow. It was one of those split seconds that hold a lifetime.
Then somehow we were moving on, back into our lives and what would become more memories.
Being 20 and still invincible, we soon had shaken off the effects of the scare. Up ahead was the glow in the nighttime sky that would guide us to
the western city of lights and chance. Back behind was a specter we had somehow eluded. As we sped further away I wondered about it and it began to seem like a dream.
I have not come that close to it again. And I sometimes ask myself how we had been able to cheat Death that night in the desert. Perhaps it wasn’t our time. Or perhaps it was, and we had just slipped by. Is that possible?
Maybe luck was with us. If so we were headed to the right place.
Or maybe what really happened was that the dark angel in the desert just didn’t have time to stop for us. Maybe he had a date way back in Memphis. Maybe he had a date with
a king.
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