Day 2: Graceland and Bad Wax

I’d hoped on this trip that I’d get to know my kid better. Little did I know it would start to happen so dang soon.

She wore me out this morning, dragging me to all the attractions at Graceland (sans one), oohing and ahhing and fussing when I dared speak to her while she was listening to John Stamos’s commentary on the Jungle Room.

 

She loved the cars, loved the gold records, adored the jump suits. Which…okey-dokey then. Go with your bad self.

Graceland was fantastic, except I way under-budgeted time. I thought, “Eh, we’ll be in an out in a couple of hours.” Wrong. FOUR. We were there for FOUR hours. And it was 99 in the shade. And someone was entirely too enthusiastic.

It was heaven, really.

Heading out of Memphis, Earl asked for my phone to see what was coming up on the Roadside America app. That’s another thing that’s fascinating me—she is totally in to the weird and wonderful things she’s finding there. The first thing she found was The Galaxy Connection, which is actually a private Star Wars toy collection-slash-museum with a store. Me and my geek self were all down for that, but then a squeal emanated from the passenger seat. “No! Mommy! I found what we really need to do! It’s so much better than the Star Wars museum!”

What was this riveting attraction that warranted more excitement than Jedis and Yoda?

The Bauxite Museum and Teeth.

Yep. My child who hates sodas and brushing her teeth wanted to go learn about bauxite, aluminum, and fluoride. She was stoked.

Until we pulled up and realized they’re only open on Sundays and Wednesdays.

She nearly cried. And her nearly crying nearly made me cry. Heartbroken, she was.

A few minutes later, though, she was back on the app digging again. In short order, there was another squeal. “Mom! A wax museum! And it’s rated ‘Major Fun!’ That would totally make up for Bauxite!”

Minerals and wax. Ah, Earl, I love you to bits, you odd child, you.

I really wish I hadn’t been so on the stick this morning. I wish I hadn’t already made reservations to stay in Texarkana tonight, because we would have loved spending more time in Hot Springs, AR. It’s definitely on the list of ‘Places to Revisit.’

Josephine Tussaud Wax Museum, however? Is, well, it’s complicated. I’m a sucker for a wax museum, creepy as they are. Hollywood Wax Museum in Pigeon Forge is always a hoot for me, a fact that proves my secret love of bad wax museums. I was ready to be entertained one way or another with Josephine’s.

I think Josephine must be Madame Tussaud’s black sheep step-sister, maybe, because where the Hollywood Wax Museum makes you look at Anne Hathaway and think, “She looks slightly more like Gilda Radner, but if you look at her just right…,” Josephine’s makes you look at a figure and wonder when Madeline Albright and Carol Channing had a love child before you look at the placard and realize, “OMG. That’s HILLARY??”

Here. You try. Guess the people in this picture:

Stumped? Queen Elizabeth II, Diana, Charles, and Nixon. Because sure.

I stared at MLK, Jr. for a good minute before I finally caved and looked at the name plate.

And when did Bill Hader ever do an Elvis impression?

We completely skipped the horror section of the museum, as Earl wouldn’t even go past the curtain when she saw a strobe light. In fact, I’m not sure she saw 80% of the figures because she had practically wedged herself under my scapula.

In the car on the home stretch to Texarkana, we were talking about the blog. I was urging her to go on and write her entry because I knew we’d be late getting in. “I don’t know what I’d write about!” she said.

“You can write about how scared you were at the wax museum.”

“But, Mommy! People would laugh at me!”

Oh but wait, I reminded her, what is our #1 Agreement on this trip? Always be yourself, fearlessly. The beauty, I told her, in writing about your own fears and weaknesses is that in being able to find the levity in them for yourself, you take the power away from the people who may laugh. You’re not only more authentic, but you give people a voice to relate to that they may not have heard before.

“I’d never thought about it like that,” she muttered.

But she didn’t write today. She was, quite frankly, overly-exhausted from dragging me around Graceland and then insinuating her way through three chronically tense layers of muscle to wrap herself in my subscap in the wax museum.

I’m pretty whipped, too, but tomorrow we drive first then tour, so I’m hoping for a bit of a better pace. And maybe less bad wax.