The Day I Saw Elvis And Other Strange Happenings In A Small Florida Town    John E. Wynne  Photo by Pascal Bernardon on Unsplash © Copyright 1999 by John E. Wynne

It was just the other day. Wednesday to be exact. I was driving my old rust bucket of a Ford pickup out of my apartment complex. I was scheduled to do some tile work on a done-in shower floor belonging to a friend who once was my wife on stage. It was in a community theatre production of Evita in which she played Eva and I was her loving stooge, Juan Peron. 

As I said I was pulling out onto the main drag when I saw him. It was Elvis. Of this I have no doubt. He was standing there on the sidewalk with his wife and son. I figured he must have gotten re-married. I don't know why he would want to and I wanted to ask him but I didn't--I just kept on driving. 

The shower floor was waiting and so was Eva, and she didn't like to wait. I know what you're thinking. No, he wasn't wearing a jumpsuit. He had a on a T-shirt and a pair of plaid shorts and sandals. He could have easily blended right in with the rest of the condo-commandos in the area but it was the hair that gave him away. He hadn't lost a single strand. No receding. No gray. Oh yeah, he was still dying it jet black, that was the other thing that gave him away. 

I was happy for him.  He looked, well, at peace with himself. I mean that's why he faked the whole death thing to begin with wasn't it?  He just wanted to be left alone.  That was the main thing to the King of Rock n' Roll. 

As I drove off I looked back and he was smiling. As I headed down the road I thought of how nice it had been to start out my day seeing Elvis. It was going to be a grand day indeed. Hi Vicky, I thought. Nice day isn't it, I'm here to do your shower floor. Oh, guess who I saw on my way over here, Elvis. Yeah the man himself not ten feet away from me as I was leaving the house. Yeah.

It wasn't such a grand day after all. In fact it was a big downer. At lunch time Vicki went out and picked up a pizza and we sat in her country kitchen munching on pepperoni pie and jawing about our short lived theatre careers. All the while my eye was drawn to the yard where she had a stable and a chestnut horses was dreamily swishing flys with its tail near the door. The conversation was getting bogged down in the usual talk about the weather and all that, so I tossed a piece of crust into the open box. "Vicki, you know who I saw on my way over here today?"

"No, who?"

"Elvis."

"Yeah, I thought I saw him in the supermarket the other day." She said with a tone of sarcasm.

"No, really, I saw him. He smiled at me. He knew I knew it was him," I said.

"Maybe it was one of those impersonators, there's a lot of them around these days, I saw it on one of those tabloid T.V. shows the other day." She said through a stretch of mozzarella cheese.

I got up, and walked toward the sliding glass door to get a better look at the horse. 

"You know it’s sad" I said, "the guy had everything and couldn’t go anywhere, I read where he used to rent out whole movie houses and he and his buddys would go down in the middle of the night to watch movies.  He couldn’t do it like you and me because he’d get mobbed. He was a prisoner of his own success. I’m glad he’s finally getting to lead a normal life. 

"You know, the Beatles idolized him and when they hit it big and came to the States they went to Graceland and they were disappointed.  It didn’t live up to their expectations. Can you imagine being The King and having to live up to some woman’s expectations?  How could you ever be as good as your image? I mean you are the King! 

"I felt sorry for him, but when I saw him today and he smiled I knew everything is finally all right with him."

Vicki tossed the empty pizza box into the trash can and walked up behind me. "Maybe if I see him in the store again I’ll ask him over for dinner, nothing fancy.  I’ll make his favorite, fried peanut butter and banana sandwiches."

"That would be nice of you," I said, just as the horse turned and ambled back into the stable.

"Well, back to work." I bounded toward the steps.

"Your doing a great job," she called after me.

In my best Elvis voice I replied "Thank you Ma’am."

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