Iwonnawhutnow?

A 3:30 pm phone call from my friend Ry-Gonn promised free tix to a St. Paul Saints game, free food, and $1 beers. I said yes, and promptly hustled my buns home to get ready. (Seriously, fan or not, if you’ve never experienced the intrinsic joy of outdoor Minor League Baseball, well... you just haven’t lived.)

We arrive et the game, and try to find the group area where the food is being served- On the way, we guffaw at the plethora of Elvis Impersonators, until we discover that it is "Viva Las Vegas" weekend at the stadium. (They host theme weekends, see?) We narfed down burnt ‘dogs (The free concession area was closing when we arrived) and headed to find our seats.
Ry saw a BNW alum that also does stats for the game and they struck up a convo…the jist is, I heard "grumblegrumblegrumble…P can do an Elvis!" Horrified, I turn to see him pointing at me and the mascot smiling predatorily. "No", say I…and before I could do anything the guy grabs my ticket and tells me he’ll flag me down in the 3rd Inning. I was a little miffed at Ry, but I let it slide.

"C’mon, dude…you were in that one show where you did Elvis…’Picasso and the Phlegmy Rabbit' or some shit…?"
"No"
"C’mon, you’re a fuckin’ ringer…." (And then the seal of doom) "Don’t be a fuckin’ pussy"

Normally, I wouldn’t cave in to the double dog dare mentality, but when the dude came up to ask for my full name…I grew a little more daring. So- there I was…in front of a sold out Saints Crowd with two other dudes (Grimace and Olive Oil, was the best way to describe ‘em. Olive Oil took the liberty of Drawing on sideburns and a widow’s peak. Grimace just, well, ate.)
The gimmick was they wanted us to read a commercial spot in between innings ala’ the King. At first, I thought it was me and two "serious" impersonators. Mmmmnot so much.

After Frick and Frack had their turns (and were both, subsequentlycut- off mid-commerical) I did some quick editing of my script, went up and did it. (Something about the farmers market. I cut it so that the last bit was "All this talk 'bout produce has made-ah me hungry...I sure could go for a PB and Banana S-s-s-sammich...Thankyouverymuch.") The people cheered. (Even though they probably only heard: "Grimbledimble, Flim Flam Farmer, wimble Womble doon, dengdobeddybutch.") Heck, I even threw in a little hip shimmy for good measure.

The announcer thanked the other two Elvii, and asked me if I knew what I’d won. "Won? This was a contest?" He looked at me rather incredulously, and said "Ladeez and Gentlemen, give it up for Elvis #3"____", who wins a 5 Day 4 Night Stay at the Golden Nugget Casino in Las Vegas, NV!!!"

So there I was…the anti-ringer in my polo shirt and "Shakespeare in the Park" baseball hat…and apparently a free pass to a Vegas hotel/casino. The short version of the story is I won some shit at the Saints game this Friday night. But I find the punch line is rather gratifying when I say it the long way.