Memphis Day 5

Apart from the music, there's not much to say about Memphis.  The only other famous Tennesseean I can  think of is Davey Crockett, that famous backwoodsman, famous for inspiring a generation of teenagers in the 1950's to stick their heads up a raccoon's arse.  We did make a stop at one point at the Danny Thomas Museum (it was part of a tour and I'm sure you'll all join me by asking, "Who?!?")  
 
The other thing Memphis is famous for is that this is the place where Martin Luther King Jr. was shot in 1968.  The motel where it all happened has been preserved as a Civil Rights Museum, even the cars in the parking lot that day are still there.  But we didn't go, as it was being picketted by a woman named Jacqueline Smith (no, not THAT Jacqueline Smith) who feels that it's wrong to commemorate Civil Rights in this way.  She's probably right, so we stayed away.
 
Most of our evenings in Memphis were spent in front of the tv in the hotel room, ordering either pizza or Chinese.  After two days our choice was reduced still further after the pizza gave us both runny bottoms.  (Was that too much detail?  I never know.)  The only disruption to our routine was the night we were roused out of our beds after a fire alarm went off.  We had to troop outside and stand around while a mad woman raved, "WHAT DA FUCK!??  WHAT DA FUCK?!???  Oh sorry darlin'" (on seeing a five year old kid hiding behind his mother).  It turned out to be a false alarm, but it didn't do my runny bottom any good.
 
But anyway, this is hardly the point.  I mean - what does one go to Memphis for?  Not the ducks, trust me.  No we were going because we were on our way to the Holiest Site of All.  The Dome of the Rock 'n' Roll if you will...