But in the meantime, my first stint as an Elvis impersonator was an unqualified success. People were laughing, smiling, taking pictures -- I even got to autograph a scarf. The most surreal moment, though, was after the main performance, when a fellow came up to shake my hand. And then... a curious thing. He asked me what my name was.
A split second before I said "Denton", I stopped.
"Delvis Fresley. Pleased to meet you, sir."
He smiled. "The Real Elvis?"
"It's an honour to be here." (I guess I mumbled a bit too much. It worked in my advantage here, though.)
It is true, though -- when you put on that sequined jumpsuit, it's almost impossible not to fall into character. And it's even harder to act like yourself. That jumpsuit unlocks a wave of energy, and all you have to do is let your Inner Elvis pick up his surfboard. After that, It's all smiles and sunglasses.
Although not entirely... I did freak out one young boy -- and he acted in much the same way I did when I was his age, and at a Klingon exhibit in Las Vegas. (Always Vegas.) And I did get booed by one group of young ladies after they asked me to sing a song. But you know what? I suspect that they had already decided to boo me long before they asked. Fatalism works both ways, I guess.
I still had to paddle, though, which means that I am about to drop from exhaustion. But before that, one final observation:
Scarves are awesome. Swing them, drape them, spin around... I think they just replaced capes as my #1 male fashion accessory in sore need of a comeback.
All right. Time to get ready for the B Divison Final tomorrow. Wish me luck!