Chirky

We had dinner last night at Chuy's with our community group and a family of, like, FOUR HUNDRED who were seated near us and celebrating a birthday. They sang "Happy Birthday" and it was just dandy and everyone was cheery and in good spirits, particularly those with the margaritas. And then, AND THEN, INTERNET, out of the corner of my eye I saw this flash of white grow closer and closer. I turned my head and sauntering into the room was something I could go my entire life without seeing again.

This man, with his hair rolled like a sea wave and sideburns as thick as a West Virginia wrestler, was walking near me and then past me to the table of four hundred. And he was wearing white. All white. Tight, white lycra. With silver washers sewn on to his jumpsuit. And a plunge v-neck exposing his black chest hair. And a belt made of pleather with fringe hanging down to his white platform shoes. And he was proud of it. ALL of it.

He bent his knees and wiggled his hips a little before beginning a rendition of "Happy Birthday" with a "uh-uhhhh" interjected every once in a while, thoroughly enjoying his own performance. His fringe swung back and forth, and his boistrous voice filled the room. We were all a bit confused, because, WHY IS ELVIS AT A MEXICAN RESTAURANT? And then we recalled that yesterday was Elvis' birthdate.

Now I'm wondering: Were the family of four hundred celebrating a family member's birthday, or Elvis's?