Myrtle Beach, SC

When I got the email that I was assigned a hearing in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina I thought, surely this can't be. I mean, I had been assigned a hearing in New York City and Denver before, but that was only because our scheduling partner had made a mistake. I never actually got to go to those places. I thought for sure the same thing would happen in this situation. Someone would realize the mistake and assign the hearing to one of our East Coast attorneys. But that never happened. Two days went by and I was still listed as rep. So I bought my ticket and booked my hotel (on the beach!) before anyone could change their minds.

I flew into Myrtle Beach around 7:00 p.m. and from the airport it looked a lot like Panama City, Florida. The lady at the rental car agency recommended I eat at Creek Ratz, south of town on the Murrell Inlets overlooking the marsh. I thought the marsh may be cool, but I wanted to see the beach.

I find my hotel on South Ocean Blvd and check-in. I'm assured I have an ocean front view from my 5th floor balcony. The middle-aged lady at the counter asked what kind of work I did. When I told her I was an attorney, I almost gave her a heart attack. She gasped sharply and exclaimed, "Oh, I though you were just a baby." I'm not sure how young babies are in South Carolina, but I at least look 25 I'm thinking, and 25 is still technically old enough to be an attorney. I assured her that I would look more grown-up the next day when I put on my suit and had my hair down.

After locking myself out of my room (the first time ever!), and then forgetting my camera, I finally cruise Ocean Blvd keeping an eye out for the big Ferris wheel I had seen online.  It wasn't hard to find.

 

What was hard to find was an available parking spot. The spots that were available required cash which I didn't have. I was starting to feel tired and worn out from the day and all of a sudden all I wanted was something familiar and comfortable. I turn a corner and lo behold, there was Chick-fi-la. I know. I should have been more daring and adventurous, but there it was, like a home away from home calling to me. I had had a rough morning and I couldn't help it - I caved. I took my meal back to my 5th floor balcony and ate it as I listened to the lapping waves and unwound for the day.

My hearing was scheduled for late Wednesday morning and the office was located about ten miles north of my hotel. The hearing was over by lunch time.

As I tried to find my way back to the beach, I stumble upon a bookstore and a mall. Perfect. I had just finished reading Divergent by Veronica Roth on my flight out and was desperately wanting to get my hands on the second book of the trilogy, Insurgent. Not only was I enthralled with the story, but I needed a book for the beach and my three hour flight back home. (Book #3 comes out on Tuesday!) I also needed a place to change out of my business suit.

I'm prepared with cash this afternoon and I find a prime parking spot. First stop is lunch at Peaches Corner.

The young waitress calls me "darling" and plops into my booth to take my order. Oh, is that your natural hair color? No, it used to be red and now it's faded. Oh, well you should keep it like that. She goes and gets my drink. Upon returning she must've seen my camera bag and asks, Ooh, are you a photographer? Nope, just having fun with my new camera. She looks stumped.

After lunch I head for a store that caught my eye the night before, I Love Sugar.

I walk into the store and I see this welcome banner of color and candy.

 

I make a bag of carefully selected Jelly Belly beans and then I discover Wolverine PEZ. And of course, I buy it.    



 

Next stop is the SkyWheel.

 

 

I buy my $13.00 ticket and wait in line. While I wait I learn a few things. The wheel was built in May 2011 and goes 200 feet high.  The ride will take you on 3 revolutions and will last 8-10 minutes. If you get claustrophobic or scared (like the teenage girl in front of me was becoming) there's an emergency button in your gondola that alerts the attendant that you need help and he will slowly bring you down.

 

The young twenty-something-year-old attendant that puts me into my gondola tries to figure me out. So, everyone else chickened out, huh? No, it's just me. Pause as he thinks this over. I'm here for work. Oh, what do you do? I'm an attorney. OH. He slowly registers that I'm older than I look and maybe he should stop smiling so much. He makes a few more comments and the people who are waiting to be put in their gondola next start looking at us and I'm thinking, time to wrap it up dude.

 

I'm starting to realize that a young woman traveling on her own makes people uncomfortable. They must figure me out. I must be traveling with friends, they are just not with me at the moment. Or I must be a photographer (I wish!), which would somehow explain why I have a camera in a tourist town all alone.

 

The ride provides a great view of the beach and town.

 

 

And as far as I know, the teenage girl in front of me didn't need the emergency button.

 

As I get off the ride, the attendant, who has had 3 revolutions to think things over, decides to now address me as Ma'am and wishes me good day.

Now it's time to relax at the beach with my toes in the sand. The temperature is 70 degrees with overcast skies and, despite local laments for sun, I love it. The water is cold and I can't imagine swimming in it. Several beach-goers don't seem to mind though.

Unfortunately, 4 o'clock rolls around and it's time to head to the airport. I stop at a gas station to fill my rental when a guy delivering ice starts talking to me. How you doing? Good. Are you from Myrtle Beach? Nope, just visiting. Well, when are you leaving? Right now. Where are you from? Houston. Oh. Do you travel here much? Nope, first time. And then he starts telling me when a good time to visit is and when isn't, etc. He drags out the conversation as I open my car door and try to give him the hint that I want to leave. Well...I would say I'll see you next time you're in town...but I guess we'll never know. Guess not.

I think of the advice I was given the previous morning by some unknown man sitting across the lobby of a Houston hearing office: The key to finding Mr. Right is to stop looking. Well, I'm not looking, but this man delivering ice definitely isn't him. And it wasn't the SkyWheel attendant. And it wasn't the car passenger who smiled and waved as I tried to cross Ocean Blvd. And it wasn't the airline attendant who commented as he walked by, "Now there's someone who knows what they're doing. Whatever it is you're doing, just keep on doing it." But you know, South Carolina might not be a bad place to stop looking for love.