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Compared to the rainy
weather of the afternoon before, the few hours between Williamston and
Myrtle Beach were filled with great weather! This is the kind of trip
I had in mind!
I was to
meet my sister in Myrtle Beach, where she was shopping.
Myrtle Beach seemed like a thriving community, even this late in the season, and surely the tons of outlet malls don't hurt. When I got there, though, I found out my sister was instead at a place called the Dead Dog Saloon in Murrell's Inlet. It was a short, pleasant drive there and Murrell's inlet was amazing. The short lane down the inlet is a shady, lazy drive, and the saloon is easy to find.
At the Dead Dog Saloon, I had lunch with my sister Becca, and her two roommates, Holly and Kirsten. It was a pleasant afternoon and the food was good. It struck me that this would be a good place for a biker hang-out, as it was right on the water and had the right atmosphere. Just as I was thinking this, a waitress walked by with a T-shirt saying Dead Dog Saloon, Myrtle Beach Bike Week '03. Okay, I guess somebody thought of it before me.
Becca said there wasn't an official bike week in Myrtle Beach anymore because of some trouble a couple years ago, but I'm not sure that's entirely correct. The t-shirt alone seems pretty strong evidence of a thriving bike week.
The afternoon was long and I accompanied the ladies to one of the outlet malls so they could do some birthday shopping for Holly, and all that was very nice. Becca had plans to go out to a couple of nice places that night in Charleston and I clearly got the hint that I should get myself a nice shirt and sweater, at the very least.
I followed the girls back to Charleston. Holly drove very slowly, it seemed to me, and mostly in the passing lane. I did not hesitate to mention that to her later, but in good humour. She asked if she went too fast for me and I said no, she was going too slow. I had, by the time we headed toward Charleston, stowed my bags in the back of her SUV, and that included my heated gloves and extra layers. I wasn't cold, not with Roxie's heated grips and my jacket liner, but I could've used to stop and put on the long underwear!
Anyway, after resting up and getting a shower and, yes, shaving to please my sister, we headed out to a place I liked a lot -- Tsunami. It's an upscale drinking joint with a sushi bar in the back. We chowed down on a brief dinner of sushi, drank a lot, and watched the Red Sox win a game.
After that, Becca and I
headed over to a little bar I forget the name of but that an absolutely
killer band playing. I'd like to hear them again, that's for sure. It
was also the kind of bar that draws all kinds, so there was a nice mix
of the local population there. We closed them down, then moved on.
Last place on Becca's list for the night was a wine bar she often goes to after work. She knows the people there well enough that she gets a lot of wine free, something John Steinbeck would heartily applaud her for. We wound things up and went on home.
Funny thing about Charleston...and South Carolina in general...you can't get a drink like the bartender grabs the bottle, lets a bunch of booze flow into your glass and hands it to you. No, they gotta pour you your drink out of those little airline bottles. Pre-measured shots, to be sure, and I'm sure that in some places the customer gets the better deal for it; but somehow it doesn't seem right. I even ended up in a couple places where they have the big bottles -- still sealed. Display only. Very strange to me.
On the other hand, they've begun a smoking ban in South Carolina in some restaurants, which I appreciate.
One thing I have to say before I wrap up this entry: a big, heartfelt thank you to my sister. Not only was she a wonderful host, but she gave up her own bed and slept instead on the couch. She has a very comfortable bed and I slept like a log and I can't thank her enough. So Becca, thank you.
