You know the nights when you think “Who are these people and where is my luggage?” Well, tonight wasn’t one of those nights.
It’s cream pink.
The license plate says “56Elvis.”
Cadillac is stenciled across the back.
The street is empty except for the two of us and I pull up a little closer just to bask in its glow. We stop at the red light. I look to my left to check out the driver , and wouldn’t you know it, it’s Elvis! The king himself! In a white high-collared shirt with crystals, his hair slick and black and high as a springboard.
I smile and give him thumbs up.
He raises his eyebrow at me.
“Little less conversation little more action.”
Only in Las Vegas you can get hit on by Elvis… Standing at that red light, I felt an odd pride that we’re part of the same city.