Beale Street, Memphis

Joyce drove almost all the way up here from Jackson, because Liz couldn't stay awake. Motel is in the industrial outskirts of Memphis. Third La Quinta, third pool not ready for the season. Raised hell. Contacted La Quinta. They refunded Tallahassee stay. All righty, then!

Did our usual bag and dog drag into the room, hot and mad. Why do they think it suddenly gets hot on Memorial Day? Hello! The weather doesn't read our calendar. It gets hot when it damned well pleases, and everyone should know when that is.

Anyway, the reason we chose Memphis at all was two restaurants in the area, Dyer's Burgers on Beale Street and the one we'll discuss in the next blog. So after an annoying arrival and an understanding of our location vis a vis Beale Street, Joyce cleverly called a cab. We got an overly-talkative Sudanese driver and no air conditioning. He asked our relationship and we said "Married! For almost 22 years!" which he took to mean "sisters." We let him rabbit on and hoped we wouldn't get him for the return trip. Just because we called Arrow Cab, that doesn't mean we're straight.

Beale Street is a combination of Key West, Greenwich Village and New Orleans, but very much smaller. Seedy characters rubbing shoulders with gawking tourists. Street entertainment. Mostly bars, live, competing music. Head shops, souvenir stands, lots of neon, lighted caleches. (No, don't e-mail me; look it up. I'm a teacher).






Walked two and a half blocks to Dyer's and were constantly harassed by barkers to enter bars and restaurants. Street is closed to motor vehicles so we walked in the middle to escape them.

Here is Dyer's. They deep fry their burgers in 97-year old oil. Bring your Immodium.

http://www.dyersonbeale.com/



We bought mandatory postcards, keychain and refrigerator magnets, and got a cab back. This driver was a very talkative local who apparently felt she alone was responsible for continued tourism. I guess there's no such thing as a quiet cab driver in Memphis. I always feel we have to entertain cab drivers. Why can't they just shut up and drive?

It's really nice to stop for two days. A chance to rest up and sleep in and not haul baggage. The dogs are tired, too. They go into their cages to rest, or hide under furniture. They seem to like rest stops, parks and sniffing, but it probably wears them out a little.

Tomorrow we return to Mississippi. No, we didn't forget anything. We'll explain later.