Walking in Memphis

Despite what we naively thought were air-raid sirens, we trumpled off through the incredible lightning storm in southwestern Tennessee last night to visit the home of the blues and dig in to some scrumptious barbeque. Turns out the sirens were alerting residents to severe weather. Seemed a bit of a production to me, but who am I anyway?

Beale Street was great. My second visit (the first, February 2005) was more better than the first one. See, this time, my dinner guest (we'll call her T-Dog because she doesn't like it) and I found a hole in the wall joint down an alley called "Rendezvous" [see photo]. It smelled delectible and was recommended highly by a mutual acquiantance, so we went. The ribs were fine (dry-rubbed) and the beer adequate (Michelob on draught). I would never highly recommend it, however.

We then went to BB King's club to hear some live blues and get a second meal. Unfortunately, the kitchen was closed... but the bar wasn't [and they had one of my favorite hefeweisen's: UFO]. Playing was BB King's band and the king of Beale Street, Preston Shannon [see photo]. It was just heavenly.

There is also a group of Australians touring the States, looking at our cities and towns to learn what we do right and what works and what doesn't. This is smart, see... they can then go back down under and build better cities and towns there than we have here. In any case, they sat down with us at the table and we got to chatting. Lots of fun. Tony [coincidentally the only other Australian I've ever met was named Tony] told me about a jazz club on Sydney's waterfront called either Downstairs or the Underground. He also said, which I was surprised to hear, that he was so impressed with the hospitality he found in the States. "Black, white or inbetween, you people are so kind. Always a hello or a how-are-you-doing." Thanks Tony!

Countdown continues: Five days and fourteen hours. Two workshops. Four performances. Two venues. Five states. One excited guy.