Myrtle Beach gave us many things—ocean views, quiet mornings, and three moments I will be processing for the rest of my natural life.
First, at Brookgreen Gardens’ Night of a Thousand Candles, a woman in front of us let out a fart so forceful it could’ve shifted the jet stream. If it hadn’t been raining and she’d passed anywhere near a candle, we would have witnessed a brushfire that would go down in South Carolina history. Jeremy and I stood there blinking, unsure whether to laugh, run, or consult the forestry service.
The next morning at Blueberry’s Grill, I baptized my sweater in maple syrup. I thought I’d gotten lucky with just one small spot on my jeans—cute, manageable, something I could pretend didn’t happen. Then I looked in the mirror. A full syrup rivulet ran from neckline to hem like I’d been anointed by Mrs. Butterworth herself. And as if fate wanted to emphasize my humiliation, the Christmas song playing overhead was filled with enough sexual innuendo to make Santa sound like he needed an HR department.
And then there was the radio. In the span of one short drive, we heard a cheerful midday hiring ad for Treasure Club (the gentleman’s club), followed by a DUI lawyer confidently declaring, “When life gets bent, better call Trent.” But the real showstopper was learning that one of the local stations runs something called “The T&A Morning Show.” I don’t know what the T stands for. I don’t know what the A stands for. I don’t actually want to know. All I know is that if I had named a show that, the FCC would have personally escorted me out of the building.
But honestly? We still had a wonderful time. Myrtle Beach may not behave, but it certainly knows how to make an impression.
Absurdities and Fires 