Sometimes he would fly back with me. And he would land the fucking plane, too. At the end of the trip he would get in the copilot seat, which made everybody nervous, and announce, “Ladies and gentlemen, please fasten your seatbelts, Elvis is going to land the plane.” I’d think, Um, can I get off? and I would tighten my seatbelt as tight as it could go and then I just remember everyone applauding as we landed, because we were alive. We were alive.
