• by Kelly Samardak , July 7, 2010

Pork Of July, Memphis, TN
July 2-6, 2010
Summer is HOT and so is your party. Send those invitations to kelly@mediapost.com!

I'm back from Memphis and fatter than ever! The weekend's theme was "Pork of July," where pork from all over that pig was served on everything from rolls, to ribs, to nachos. I don't know who is behind the BBQ nacho invention, but I'd say it's the greatest thing since location-based adver sharing! Somehow, no matter how near or far my vacation, this industry invades, even at the Memphis Redbirds game. See, I'm always thinking of you!

Before we arrived, our amazing hosts, The Grodskys, warned us about the heat. But guess what? Our temps were at least 15 degrees lower than Manhattan, and they had central A/C, which is way better than the laboring dead piece of A/C crud that is lodged into the wall under the window at my awesome apartment.

Memphis breaks my heart a little bit. We didn't have a ton of time to explore every crack and crevice, but it didn't take much to showcase a city in desperate need of defibrillation. We took the trolley down Main Street and along the river, which revealed more boarded-up storefronts and buildings than those inhabited. There were maybe four square blocks of "bustling" commerce, hosting Huey's, The Peabody Hotel (with its famous ducks!), and Rendezvous, with its insanely awesome sausage and cheese plate, mouth-deluging pork shoulder platter, and less-than-spectacular ribs. Two blocks in either direction and the city falls comatose or your gaze falls on "The Pyramid", an homage to Egypt and previous sports arean, now future location of... a Bass Pro Shops situation. I don't know about you, but when I see a pyramid all I can think of is an ole large mouth.

BUT! Autozone Park was nowhere near comatose. I took in a Memphis Redbirds game - they're the AAA team of the St. Louis Cardinals. It was the perfect southern 4^th of July activity. Gobs and gobs of couples laden with two to five sticky kids patchworked the "bluffs," a grassy hill behind left field. That place was a combination of the best birth control possible or an insta yearning for down-home southern family living -- either that, or the scraggly little guys rolling around in the grass, stretching their prepubescent flirting muscles, and inhaling hot dogs made me wistful for my missing-toothed youth, when "checking in" at Autozone field meant running back to mom's blanket to show evidence of my continued existence.

Around the 7^th inning stretch we were treated to SGT Sniffen of the 101^st Airborne Division Parachute Team Screaming Eagles and his plane-jumping partner. They descended through the clouds, trailing pink smoke, Sniffen sporting a billowing American flag. I hope you event planners are paying attention, because I think everyone wins when a parachute is involved. And of course the Screaming Eagles have a Facebook page! Also? If you're immature, a lot of fun can be had with "Sniffen" and previous positions he may have held.

The game ended with fireworks, complete with "pretend you're trippin'" glasses. They were awesome! If you're heading to Vegas soon and want to pretend you're Hunter S. Thompson, I'll rent mine out to you. Yes I brought them home. I also brought home a healthy distaste for certain laws regarding loaded guns in crowded places. The night before we hit Beale Street to wander the road with big fat icy-cold beers and soak in as much music as possible, a dude was arrested for gun possession. The night after our stroll? Two people got shot. Hard to revitalize an area that seems focused on killing itself.

Let's talk about food, shall we? It's obvious Memphis is an eating town. Gus's Fried Chicken (we went to the one near Collierville) is spicy and nearly burnt crispy, but the winners for me were the fried pickles. Delicious spears of sour, sweet, fried happiness. But you haven't lived until you've almost died at Paula Deen's buffet ("Ya'll Hungry?") at Harrah's in Tunica, Miss. I'm not a gambler, I feel like I work too hard to throw my money in the driveway and burn it, but I do love people-watching, free beverages at the penny slots, and a buffet built by the queen of butter. Let's just say my arm shook under the weight of my dinners. Dinners.

Last, but certainly not least, the day after a lovely pool party where I achieved maximum pinkness, my dude and I headed home. But with two hours to kill at the Memphis, it only made sense that we should head to Jim Neely's Interstate BBQ for none other than BBQ Nachos. Opening that Styrofoam container to reveal the nearly fluorescent flood of melted cheese over a mound of ripped up-pork shoulder suffocating a pile of tortilla chips was like gazing into my lifelong Weight Watchers membership. It was magnificent.

And now we're back! Tomorrow I'm easing you back into Just An Online Minute with a party celebrating Threadless and Havaianas' launch of a limited edition collection of t-shirts (designed by the Threadless community!) and flip-flops. Not blatantly industry-related, but I have a feeling we can make it work. Planning a big fat event and want to see it in Just An Online Minute? Send those invitations to kelly@mediapost.com!

Photos are up on Flickr!