I was on my very first trek to Tunica, MS to get eyes on this “Las Vegas of the South” and to throw my budgeted $100 out the window. Oh yes, I had that little bird screaming that I COULD turn it into thousands but I knew that the reality was I’d donate it to the fat pockets that owned the place. It was a few days “away with the boys”, an inexpensive room at a nice hotel and a few hours of blackjack… if I was lucky enough.

We arrived with a beer in hand amid a discussion if Mississippi had an open container law. Our beer-less and jealous driver was not only scared that 400 Mississippi state patrol officers were watching just us but also that we were in his wifes momma van and lord, he’d be castrated if she caught one whiff of beer in the child mover. By the way, Mississippi is the ONLY state without an open-container law that prohibits drivers or passengers from drinking inside a motor vehicle although some counties in the state have passed laws that do prohibit drinking in a motor vehicle in some form. I can’t remember if someone knew this or not but we drank anyhow. As soon as we got south of Memphis and crossed that Mississippi line on Highway 61 into Desoto County, MS, the cans popped.

It was a weeknight between Christmas and New Years Eve so the crowds weren’t too bad and mostly made up of retirees. If you didn’t know, retirees LOVE those slot machines. They were pouring the quarters and pennies into those blinking boxes as fast as they could and only stopping to either hit the buffet or grab a cocktail.

This is how I met Charley Pride. No, not at a penny slot machine but with a drink in both hands and heading somewhere as fast as he could. I passed him on my way to the restroom and recognized him but I didn’t say anything. Duty was calling in a major way and I couldn’t stop. I got back to the table and told my friends that I had just seen Charley Pride. They were just shy of unimpressed. There was also a mother and 3 daughters that had sat down at our table who had absolutely no clue who Charley Pride was… thus they were underwhelmed as well. So, it passed.

Suddenly, I look up and Charley Pride is heading at us with a drink in both hands. I popped up from my seat, “hey Charley”!

He paused and said his pleasantries and suddenly the girls were excited to see Charley Pride. With the encouragement of all at the table we got him to stop and the girls had to get their pictures taken with the guy they didn’t know. One of the best damned voices in country music but they had no clue. I mean, he didn’t have on a cowboy hat or a baseball cap. He didn’t have on jeans that looked like gramma’s embroidery machine got a dose of king hell crank and went haywire. Nope. None of that.

“Charley, sit down and play a couple hands with us,” I asked in a bit of a pleading manner.

“Noooooo. Noooooo. I can’t,” Charley told us.

But the pretty blonde girls got to him and their begging worked, better than mine at least. I can’t remember if Charley actually played any hands of blackjack but I do remember begging him to sing with me.

“Come on Charley, just one bar.”

Girls chattering about how excited they were to meet the guy they didn’t know existed once again grabbed his attention. He’d start to answer one question and another would be asked. Directions for how to pose were thrown about. Charley was being a good sport.

I was able to squeeze into a sliver of silence, “dude, just the chorus.”

Still, no singing.

Charley got his fill of photos and posing and retakes and all the noisy nonsense. He stood up and began his slow, back-away-kindly exit. I had one last chance. It was now or never… or something like that.

“Come on Charley. How cool would it be that I could tell my friends that I sang with Charley Pride…. albeit at a blackjack table in Tunica? You’ve go to…” I began singing.

CHARLEY JOINED IN!!!!! I was over the moon! I think I got a bit of a cold sweat.

Me and Charley and… “kiss an angel good morning and love her like the devil when you get back home….”