Mar
3
Elvis, the King!
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Just to lighten things up a bit. They say that anywhere in the world, we are never further than 9 feet away from an Elvis impersonator. Hard to believe but probably true.
I checked in one day for a Boston on the 747 to find that my captain was a man of note and reputation. Eric H was a name you never heard used, he was known to us all as just ‘Elvis’. We had not met prior to the flight but he seemed a fine fellow and we were soon on our way to BOS. Conversation flowed well with the playful banter rotating around the usual subjects. I only ever used his real name and diplomatically made no reference whatever to ‘you know who.’ I thought it odd at the time that “E’ wasn’t mentioned early in the proceedings, it didn’t accord with the bar-room chatter from around the network.
Anyway, as is the way with these things we settled down, roaring through the night across an inky black ‘pond’ until a quiet time descended upon us. We lost ourselves in thought, running the usual cruise routine carrying out the ‘housework’.
After an hour or so, Eric suddenly looked up through the windscreen, obviously contemplating something of deep significance. He had his hands clasped around the pillar of the control column and his right leg was extended, his toe was at a point and his leg was shaking as if in spasm. I looked at his face, it was distorted as if he were in pain. I’m sure he didn’t think I was watching at that stage. I was concerned; did he have cramp, was he about to be incapacitated?
Suddenly from deep within his chest burst out a tuneful, musical gasp; a crescendo finale to a previously inaudible song that stood the hair up on the back of my neck.
”And he goes by the name of Kid Creole“ filled the cockpit. Elvis, THE Elvis had exploded onto the scene in mid Atlantic right in front of me and it was fantastic. Eric sounded JUST like the man and I nearly peed myself laughing with delight.
”Fantastic Eric!“ I said, ”Do you know all the words?“
”All the words to what?“ he said wearing a knowing smirk.
”The song – Kid Creole.“ I said.
”I know the words to all his songs, The King – Memphis Tennessee!“ He looked offended, ”Every recording, every song is in mah collection brother.“
Eric produced a comb and stroked through his considerable mane, ”Elvis lives, he is a way of life!“ Eric winked at me and pocketed the comb.
The man had an encyclopedic knowledge of the life and works of The King. He had to that date (1995) visited Graceland on eighty six previous occasions and was planning to go again, and again…. Sad? Not a bit of it. Eric is a fine fellow, long since retired. He struck me as extremely bright and professional.
He was man who could walk into any Karaoke bar in Narita-Japan and the locals would rise to a man clapping and cheering; they knew they were in for a great night - Elvis had entered the building.
The graphic is not our Eric by the way.