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“What?” I say, looking up to see what he’s seeing. I read the sign, Elvis Marriages. Get married the way he did. “Do you think it’s a real marriage?” I ask, not exactly understanding why someone would want to copy a marriage, even for fun.
“I’m sure it's not. No way it’d be legal to just walk into a building like this and get married.” He says, draping his arm over my shoulder. “Oh, hey, there’s a small museum in there too.”
“Now that I’d like to see.” I reply, letting him lead me into the small building. When we walk through the door I’m greeted with a large cardboard cutout of Elvis himself. There are pictures all over the walls, things behind glass, and an elderly woman sitting in the corner.
I stop at one of the glass cases to see a pair of shoes and a notebook. There are lyrics on the pages, and a little sign that says, ‘Elvis shoes International Hotel 1974’
“Do you think those are his real shoes?” I ask, poking West in the side.
“Probably, he performed in Vegas for like six or seven years.” West says, seeming a little distracted.
I look over to see what he’s looking at, and there’s a sign that says ‘Dress like Elvis, Marry like Elvis, Be like Elvis’.
“That’s weird, right?”
“To spend time in his shoes would be beyond epic. He was a damn musical sensation that took the world by storm.”
“So, you’re an Elvis fan?” I ask, leaning against him as he walks closer.
“You’re not? The man is a fucking legend.”
“Remember who my parents are.” I state.
“He was before their time anyway. They would have been too young to remember him. Your grandparents though, they would have listened to Elvis.”
“Sometimes I forget just how nerdy you can be.” I let out a small giggle, but if he’s this damn interested in Elvis, then let's take a tour.
“Wanna see the whole museum and have a ceremony at the end?” The older woman asks, standing up from her chair. Her back is curved, but she doesn’t let that stop her as she walks to the counter. “Sign here, and present your IDs.”
“This is dumb, Westley.” I say, pulling my ID out of my bag again.
“Hey, I sat in that damn tattoo shop for you for two hours. You can handle a little time for me.” He replies. Letting out a sigh, I realize that he’s not wrong. He dropped all his summer plans to follow me here, has done nothing but cater to my every whim, I can manage to give him some of my time.
We sign the paper, which seems to be a waiver of some kind and a contract. She said it’s standard paperwork, so we signed. She buzzes us in, the doors to our left opening. We walk in, and music starts playing immediately. “I love this song,” he says, doing a little dance as we walk.
Stopping at each little knowledge nugget, West gives me the history of each part. The guitar pick, the guitar strap, the photo of Elvis dancing on stage. It’s all cute, but totally not my thing. It’s adorable to watch him get so excited about it though.
Reaching the end of the hall I hear him sigh, like he’s disappointed it’s almost over. He opens the next set of doors revealing a huge dressing room with wedding gowns and suits galore.
Now this, this could be something I have fun at. I’ve always loved clothes, and to see all these vintage wedding dresses. I let out a squeak when I see one in particular.
Not gonna lie, this is totally going to become one of those scenes in a movie, where we try on a bunch of different things. I hope it’s as amazing as it sounds in my head.
First outfits: He’s wearing a powder blue suit with frills around the neck. I shake my head no and spin in the dress I’m wearing. It’s overly fluffy and not the one I want to show him. He shakes his head in disapproval.
Second outfits: Pink, he’s wearing a pink zoot suit, and it’s absolutely fucking adorable with is fedora on. He’s got a black shirt and a pink tie and suspenders to match. “Yes! That one.” I say clapping my hands.
When he catches sight of me in my dress, his mouth drops open. “Too much?” I ask, turning from side to side to let him see it. It’s shorter with a black underlay and white lace on top with a pink belt around the waist. Funnily enough the pink matches his suit. I pull the black elbow length gloves on and give him a cute little bow.
“It’s perfect.” He replies, his eyes glued to me. “You’re fucking beautiful, Katherine.” He closes the space between us. “Damn gorgeous.”
“Well, Elvis, let’s get married.” I push up on my toes and kiss him. We collect our things and move through to the next door. To find a very chubby man dressed as Elvis standing at the end of an aisle. There is a flowered arch over him, and this all looks very real.
We walk down the aisle and when we stop at the end, Elvis begins to read off his paper. Delivering real wedding vows. We repeat his words, and when he gets to the ‘I do’ part, I hesitate.
“Well, do you?” Elvis asks.
“Oh, right.” My heart is beating so hard, my palms are sweaty and I’m not even sure how West is still holding my hand. Clearing my throat, I nod my head, “I do.”
