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Jul. 6th, 2003
This is something no parent should ever have to say: My daughter is in love with an Elvis impersonator.
Abbey and I had decided to spend some time at the Great Escape, where we pretty much made a beeline for Splashwater Kingdom, the water park portion of the place. So we got all nice and sunburned and waterlogged and chlorinated, and had an absolute blast, before it was decided that we should go on a ride or two before heading home. So we were wandering through the park, trying to decide which ride would be a good finale for the day, when we heard the dulcet sounds of "In the Ghetto" coming from the Jolly Time Pavilion, where the four-times-a-day Elvis tribute was playing.
Abbey, of course, made a mad dash toward it, because she looooves live shows, and she'd never seen this one in particular, oddly enough. We got there for the very end, a bang-up rendition of "Suspicious Minds." The impersonator-in-residence (whose name escapes me at the moment) is quite, quite good; even though he does a few late-career numbers, his Elvis is the late-60's comeback Elvis, not the cheeseball 70's Vegas Elvis that everyone else insists on presenting for reasons unknown. So we watched the last number, and we applauded, and I thought that'd be the end of it.
Then Elvis came out to meet the crowd and pose for pictures.
Now, you have to understand that Abbey is excruciatingly outgoing. If she wants to have a conversation with a total stranger, she will, regardless of the circumstances. You'd think she doesn't have a shy bone in her body. But evidently she has at least one, because all of a sudden she was standing at the pavilion entrance, clearly wanting to meet the man, but not budging, half-hiding behind her backpack. I asked if she wanted to go up and say hi, but she withered, telling me, "I don't know what to say..."
Oh, dear. She was quite gone. I took her hand and gently urged her forward to the front of the stage. Elvis was answering questions from a few other audience stragglers (evdiently, he does the whole Vegas-to-Atlantic City tour circuit, makes his own jumpsuits, and is a fabulously nice guy). One woman, who had received his scarf as part of the show, offered to return it, but he told her to keep it: he keeps a large supply of scarves on-hand for the purpose of giving away.
Then he spotted Abbey, all wide-eyed and silent. He then became my best friend in the world: "Would you like a scarf, sweetie?" Abbey died a thousand deaths, and nodded.
He ducked behind the curtain a moment, and came out with a pink one, to match her anime T-shirt. She thanked him, the only words to come out of her mouth through this whole thing, and turned to go. IO thanked him as well and complimented him on his show, then prodded Abbey towards the entrance, because although she had turned to go, her feet weren't cooperating very well. We got out to the park's main drag, and came back to the question of rides.
"Daddy? I know who I'm going to marry."
We headed for the car. I knew that rides just weren't going to happen.
Later, in the parking lot, she informed me that, inlight of recent events, she was changing her name from Abigael Clare Chadwick Fromm to Abigael Clare Groovy Fromm. She had also altered her Halloween costume: she's still going to be a vampire, but it's going to be a groovy vampire. (Personally, I think Vampire Elvis would be a fabulous costume.) Later still, I explained to her that the real Elvis had passed on 25 years ago, and that the fellow we'd met pretended to be him because he likes his music so much; she accepted this information, but said, "The real Elvis is the one who's truly in my heart."
If I didn't think Abbey was a dead-ringer for Lilo before personality-wise, I certainly do now.
Abbey and I had decided to spend some time at the Great Escape, where we pretty much made a beeline for Splashwater Kingdom, the water park portion of the place. So we got all nice and sunburned and waterlogged and chlorinated, and had an absolute blast, before it was decided that we should go on a ride or two before heading home. So we were wandering through the park, trying to decide which ride would be a good finale for the day, when we heard the dulcet sounds of "In the Ghetto" coming from the Jolly Time Pavilion, where the four-times-a-day Elvis tribute was playing.
Abbey, of course, made a mad dash toward it, because she looooves live shows, and she'd never seen this one in particular, oddly enough. We got there for the very end, a bang-up rendition of "Suspicious Minds." The impersonator-in-residence (whose name escapes me at the moment) is quite, quite good; even though he does a few late-career numbers, his Elvis is the late-60's comeback Elvis, not the cheeseball 70's Vegas Elvis that everyone else insists on presenting for reasons unknown. So we watched the last number, and we applauded, and I thought that'd be the end of it.
Then Elvis came out to meet the crowd and pose for pictures.
Now, you have to understand that Abbey is excruciatingly outgoing. If she wants to have a conversation with a total stranger, she will, regardless of the circumstances. You'd think she doesn't have a shy bone in her body. But evidently she has at least one, because all of a sudden she was standing at the pavilion entrance, clearly wanting to meet the man, but not budging, half-hiding behind her backpack. I asked if she wanted to go up and say hi, but she withered, telling me, "I don't know what to say..."
Oh, dear. She was quite gone. I took her hand and gently urged her forward to the front of the stage. Elvis was answering questions from a few other audience stragglers (evdiently, he does the whole Vegas-to-Atlantic City tour circuit, makes his own jumpsuits, and is a fabulously nice guy). One woman, who had received his scarf as part of the show, offered to return it, but he told her to keep it: he keeps a large supply of scarves on-hand for the purpose of giving away.
Then he spotted Abbey, all wide-eyed and silent. He then became my best friend in the world: "Would you like a scarf, sweetie?" Abbey died a thousand deaths, and nodded.
He ducked behind the curtain a moment, and came out with a pink one, to match her anime T-shirt. She thanked him, the only words to come out of her mouth through this whole thing, and turned to go. IO thanked him as well and complimented him on his show, then prodded Abbey towards the entrance, because although she had turned to go, her feet weren't cooperating very well. We got out to the park's main drag, and came back to the question of rides.
"Daddy? I know who I'm going to marry."
We headed for the car. I knew that rides just weren't going to happen.
Later, in the parking lot, she informed me that, inlight of recent events, she was changing her name from Abigael Clare Chadwick Fromm to Abigael Clare Groovy Fromm. She had also altered her Halloween costume: she's still going to be a vampire, but it's going to be a groovy vampire. (Personally, I think Vampire Elvis would be a fabulous costume.) Later still, I explained to her that the real Elvis had passed on 25 years ago, and that the fellow we'd met pretended to be him because he likes his music so much; she accepted this information, but said, "The real Elvis is the one who's truly in my heart."
If I didn't think Abbey was a dead-ringer for Lilo before personality-wise, I certainly do now.
