Elvis on the Titanic

Chapter 1 - Waking Up in 1912

Wow, what a doozy. I need to stop wearing black jackets on hot days – I pass out. Being overly-busy sixteen hours a day and sleeping under six hours a night doesn't help, either.

I blinked as my vision readjusted. I stared up at a white ceiling, one that wasn't there before. Was I brought inside after I passed out? That wouldn't make much sense. The Colonel would demand that people leave me be until I came-to.

"Sir, are you alright?"

That was an unfamiliar voice, and in an accent. I turned my head to see a man in a black hat, a man that was unfamiliar as well. I looked around and saw a group of people, men and women, all dressed in what looked like turn-of-the-century attire. What?

"Colonel?" I asked, but he never appeared in the crowd of people. I slowly sat up, but winced and put my palm to my head. "Ow..."

"Easy, easy," said that same man and helped stable me. I met this man's brown eyes.

"What happened, sir? Where's Colonel Tom Parker, my manager?"

I heard people whisper "American," and the others gave me funny looks. Just what did I say that was so funny? The man said, "I haven't heard of anyone by that name. How about any of you?"

The half-a-dozen people around me shook their heads or said they didn't know. My heart started to beat faster in alarm. "Okay, then where is this place?"

Some of the people whispered among each other, and I noticed something else—the accent that they all had sounded European, maybe Scottish or Irish.

"You are in the Queensland Hotel, mister," that man said in his lilt.

"Queensland Hotel? I'm sorry, but I've never heard of the place." I sat up straighter and straightened out my black suit jacket. "Please, could ya explain what has happened? Why am I here? How did I get here?"

These people looked concerned... and confused. I was right along with them. That man said, "Well... I honestly couldn't tell ya. Do you know your name?"

"Of course. Elvis Presley, sir."

"Well, at least you are somewhat right in the head, Mr. Presley."

These people didn't seem the least bit shocked. I never liked to be vain, but most people knew who I was. "I'm sorry, what?"

"Give the man some room, why don't ya?" asked another man who wore a hat who came into the picture and had the same accent as the others. He looked to me. "How 'bout you come with me, huh?"

This man looked around my age. Judging from his fire-orange hair that came out from under his hat, and the red tint of the hair on the people around me, these people were all Irish, not Scottish. Did I get pulled into an Irish convention somehow? But what about their clothes? I was so confused...

The man who spoke rose his brows, showing he wanted an answer. "Alright," I said and stood up and faced all the people. "I apologize for startlin' everyone. Thank you for your concern, but if you'll excuse me, I have to figure out what's goin' on here."

I smiled at them, and the three women in the group blushed, and one muttered, "That American accent is incredibly attractive." Another woman told her, "He is the thing that is attractive."

I cleared my throat at that. Even though I had always gotten those kinds of complements from women, it was always awkward when they gave me seductive looks as they gave the complements. "Well, excuse me."

I left with the man who interrupted and turned behind a wall and out of sight of those people. He folded his arms as he started at me. I think he knew who I was. I should say something.