Friday, July 10, 2009

Myrtle Beach SC Can Go Straight To Hell


It was our 2nd wedding anniversary on Tuesday..yeah, we were one of the millions who got caught up in the whole "7/7/07" thing...

Since we never really went on a honeymoon OR a 1st anniversary trip, so we figured we'd just find somewhere to his parent's house..cuz we're the jet-set type, you know.

So after a fun night at his parent's house (really, it was), we pointed the car towards Myrtle Beach and got was a pretty boring drive..lots of peach stands.

Our "Ponder This" car-question was:

How do we know that YOUR peaches are the best??...Is there a Zagat Survey for Trailer Trash fruit stands??

Yeah, that's how we entertain ourselves on road trips.

We kept seeing these obnoxious Welcome Centers so we decided to stop..oh lord why????
Well for ONE - they had free popcorn dammit! and for TWO..we didn't exactly have a hotel room for the night and they claimed to have discounts..we fuckin LOVE discounts.

One rep-girl-person claimed that all their hotels were booked so we turned our attention to the 50 foot "alligator" in this cheesy glass case...(yay for touristy shit!) then this other guy behind the counter starts feeding us this bullshit about a $10 a night room..{Insert blazing red flag here}
We had time to spare so we listened to his lil a 90 minute "preview" of our fabulous resort..blahh blah..get your money back for the room IN CASH...blah blah blah...right on the beach...bliggity blah.."city view" room (?)....

So we signed up, waited for him to "set up" our room on his girly white cell phone and drove another 45 minutes to the beach....

Myrtle Beach is like one big "parking lot" carnival...and everybody looks like a carnie..and not in a good way.

We pulled up to the hotel...and ONE HOUR LATER we got our room keys..pfft, bullshit.

For some reason I turned a blind eye and nose to:

The old, dark, dirty front lobby
The 6 million people crowded into it
That smell
The front desk person saying "You'll be in room 211"

because I was trying to be a good sport..and all romanticalish.

The nicest little bellhop dude helped us to our crack den room, (seems my husband the chatterbox had already found out his life story while I tried to check in).

I was pretty much traumatized from this point on so I'll summarize:

2 beds..twin beds..the smell of desperation and bad decisions..dirty windows..shitty bar area..brokenish elevator..filthy ass beach covered in trash and cigarette butts...OUR VIEW FROM THE ROOM:

If you look closely, you can see the faint outline of a crack pipe and (yay) nice!

Then if that wasn't enough, the nexy day, those timeshare fuckers tried to claim that since my husband didn't have his driver's license, they couldn't:

1. Show us their funky little stank ass timeshare condo

2. Refund our $80 after I flipped the fucking front desk over...they showed us the condo - there were TWO to choose from - Too Fucking Expensive and WAY Too Fucking Expensive..eeek!:

Look at this view, no crackpipes or panties!!

Oh! and those assholes gave us ONE HUNDRED DOLLARS hmm, that's what I thought.

Oh! and the name of this slum village?? West.gate Projects Resorts..ya think that lil dot will keep me from getting sued? Probaly not..fuck 'em.

Oh! and it rained like the days of Noah's Ark the entire way home...mmm, good times

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