I’m not ashamed to admit that Marc Cohn’s Walking in Memphis is one of my favorite songs of all time. There is just something about it that I truly love. When we visited Memphis this past April, that song was pretty much on loop in my head the entire time. And it didn’t help that the elevator banks’ walls at our hotel were plastered with the lyrics.
Our one and only ‘big night out’ in Memphis was spent at Silky O’Sullivan's on Beale Street. You see, the Knicks were playing the Celtics in Round 1 of the NBA Playoffs so it was mandatory for Dan to sniff out a big screen TV to watch the game. We marched right into the blues/dueling piano/sports bar and literally planted ourselves directly in front of the biggest screen in the place. For the entire first half of the game, no one else seemed to care about it…until the second half when a man and his two sons sat right next to us. Of COURSE, they were from Boston and of COURSE they were hard core rooting against us. I hated these people. I still hate them actually. The only time I threw a smile their way was when one of the two teenage sons walked up to the dueling piano players and requested it. Yep, Walking in Memphis. My song. There was just something amazingly awesome about being on Beale Street, singing that song with a group of strangers. This may be a pretty insignificant moment for some, but for me, this experience goes down as one of my most memorable vacation moments ever.
Needless to say, the Knicks blew the game and we had to buy those jerks a round. Curses!