Elvis Presley died in August of 1977 when we were still living in this little house on Prince Charles.This was the same year Tyson was born so he was only five months old and Damon was a year and a half. I was an ardent fan of Elvis, and when I heard this news, it was as if I heard that a dear friend had passed away. I never did see Elvis in the flesh and I felt I owed it to him, or at least to myself, to pay my respects.
So off I went to Dorval airport to catch a plane to Memphis,Tennessee, leaving Don with the two babies.
When I got to the airport, I picked up a newspaper. It had the news of Elvis all over the front page. When I settled in my seat in the airplane, I glanced at the headlines, “One hundred thousand people crowd the gates of Graceland.” Maybe I forgot to mention along the way that I was suffering from mild case of claustrophobia. The doors of the plane were shut and the plane was backing up. The flight attendants were giving the safety spiel when it hit. I could just imagine being squeezed in a riotous crowd with no way out. One hundred thousand fans, pushing, making an escape impossible.
I had to get off the plane. I waved to the stewardess and explained I was having a complete meltdown and I had to get off. She whipped up to the cock pit. The plane stopped and returned to the bay. She escorted me to the door making sure I was all right.
What a relief to get off that plane. As I entered the gate room, two girls ran into the gate room, crying. I asked them, “What’s wrong?” “Oh, we just missed the plane to Elvis’ funeral!” I heard myself reply confidently and with vigour, “Oh, no, you didn’t. Its right here.” And with that, we all three of us raced to the closing air craft door. I felt completely different now that they were in the picture. This did a 180 on my claustrophobia.
The stewardess looked at me in a puzzled way, as if to say, “What? You again?” I had some convincing to do to get back on the airplane, answering as positively as I could to her “Are you sure?” questions. She actually acquiesced and the three of us sat down. I behaved myself for the rest of the trip.
A large crowd stood outside of ‘Graceland’ singing ‘Love Me Tender’ as the white limousines slowly curled from the driveway up the Avenue taking Elvis to his final resting place. The crowds weren’t as bad as the newspaper portrayed; people were dispersed all along the road for miles.
I felt satisfied that I was able to say my good-byes to Elvis. Fate had a part to play that day for me and for the two girls.
