Elvis And The Grateful Dead (2009) - Plot & Excerpts
Suffice it to say, a woman fueled by indignation and scented with Jungle Gardenia is a lethal weapon. The balloon is moored in the north section of the massive Bancorp South Convention Center’s parking lot, walking distance from the festival if you don’t mind crossing the railroad tracks on foot. Lovie, George, and I are game, though I’ll have to say the heat takes its toll on him. Maybe Texas is not as humid as Mississippi or maybe George is not as physically fit as he looks. Or it could be that tight jumpsuit. Whatever the reason, by the time we get to the balloon, he’s sweating like a mule on the back forty. He takes a white handkerchief out of his pocket and mops his face before extending his hand to help us into the basket. It’s roomier than I’d have imagined. And the view will be splendid. I can see over the sides, which appear to be tall enough for safety, especially as long as we’re on the ground. I’ll probably change my mind once we’re airborne.
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