Fear And Loathing In Myrtle Beach: Part 2


(Opening segment based on what the hotel staff told me).

In the wee early hours of November 3rd I was riding an elevator up to my room, standing inside of a cart, with the bellboy pushing me around. Due to the fact that the hallway was a labyrinth of death, I repeatedly fell out of my cart screaming “The King Is Down!” Upon arriving at my room I tipped him a few bucks and told him the king will now rest his head. I woke up around four in the morning surrounded by empty Powerade bottles and Tylenol. I certainly wasn’t feeling well so I quickly ran to the bathroom to evict the poisons. Mumbling to myself the whole time I quoted a poem by Charles Bukowski:

“Yes, doctor, weak legs, vertigo, headaches and my back hurts.”

“Are you drinking?” he will ask.

“Are you getting your exercise, your vitamins?”

I think that I am just ill with life, the same stale yet fluctuating factors.

Laughing to myself, I said, “Well Jesus, that’s kind of depressing, I should probably leave that out of the write up.” I walked over to the sink and looked into the mirror; I looked like something death brought with him in his suitcase, and decided it was time for me to get some rest. I got a wakeup call at 9am. According to the lady at the front desk, I requested this horrible intrusion into my alcohol-induced coma. The wedding walk-through was at 11 though, so I guess it made sense to get up this early. I opened a bottle of Jameson and took out my suit; I found the shirt was somewhat wrinkled so I walked out into the hallway in search of a maid. I found two of them down the hallway and I walked up to the first one. She appeared to be in her late 30s and attractive in that Latin living la vida loca kind of way, though she looked serious enough to say any sexual ambitions left when Clinton was in office. I was hungover and dried out, much like this lady, and she clearly wasn’t playful so I kept walking. The other one was a younger white girl who smiled at me and we began talking:

(Her name tag said Ashley) – Well, the King has awakened. How may I help you this morning?

Me – Oh Consuela, I could use some help ironing a shirt. Do you think you could do me that favor (handing her a $20)?

Consuela – Sir? My name is Ashley, are you ok?

Me – Consuela I wish I spoke your native tongue (handing her another $20).

Consuela – (finally catching on) oh, uhh seeee!

Ricky Martin’s Mother (Maid #1)- What the fuck?

Walking into my room, she got out the ironing board and the iron. I walked into the bathroom and brushed my teeth; staring into the mirror I was overwhelmed by the endless amounts of glitter I continued to find all over my body and in my beard. I made a drink and walked into the living room, all the while asking her random questions about her homeland:

Me – Do your people live in the fear of the Chupacabra?

Consuela – oh seeeee.

Me – Is your country in shambles due to years of endlessly failed CIA sponsored coups? Does your grandmother worship some mythical cat-like creature that strikes your enemies down in the dead of night? Have you ever danced with the devil in the pale moonlight?

Consuela – Seeee mucho y uhhh, dude I took French I don’t know this shit.

Me – Oh Consuela, sing me a Spanish techno.

Laughing she handed me my shirt and informed me she got off work at 6pm. I told her it was not that kind of trip and thanked her for playing along with me. I went to the groom’s room after that to meet with the rest of the groomsmen who all seemed to be in their own personal hell. We went to some fancy country club and listened to the rundown. I repeatedly kept asking when one would be able to object to this tragic event but no one seemed to pay me any mind. The prayer requested by the bride was not the one the padre read and that became a big deal. People having different interpretations of the Egyptian book of urban legends (Bible) gave me a chuckle. Finally we wrapped it up and went out to eat at some seafood place. We were all taken aback by a beach full of wild horses, several hundred of them just trotting around like their shit didn’t stink. I quickly suggested we all move to high ground just in case a tribe of Indians had set it all up. You can never trust a man who isn’t Christian; I learned that from the movie Kingdom Of Heaven.

Filling ourselves with crab cakes, we begrudgingly left and went to get our suits from the tux guy. I would like to say something interesting happened, but that would be a lie. We simply just stood around and waited our turn. We then returned to our hotel where all of the happy couples got their things and went to the beach. I had a nice glass of Jameson (I may be atheist, but I was still raised Catholic and know better than to drink some Protestant garbage) and went down to the indoor pool to swim a few laps. The better part of my afternoon was spent drinking and watching college football in my room. The groom, later in the night, called me and told me we were going out to play mini golf and the bridesmaid who I would walk down the aisle had finally arrived (she missed the walk through). I met them up at his room and she introduced herself as so and so. I decided I would call her Oscar, not because she was a grouch, but because her face appeared to be something you’d find in a trashcan. This was around 8 at night and I had been drinking the better part of the day. To say I was in shape to play mini golf would certainly be a lie.

It was decided we would have a couples challenge and the losers would buy the first round of drinks once we were done. I was with Oscar who kept drinking my flask and telling me I was funny. I was driven to win and ignored her advances and came out of the gates swinging, literally swinging, I was too drunk to hit the damn ball most the time. After several holes we finally came to a windmill. I grabbed Oscar and said,

“Fortune is guiding our affairs better than we ourselves could have wished. Do you see over yonder, friend Sancho, thirty or forty hulking giants? I intend to do battle with them and slay them. With their spoils we shall begin to be rich for this is a righteous war and the removal of so foul a brood from off the face of the earth is a service God will bless.”

That is at least what I thought I said, apparently it sounded more like this:

(Slurred) “Fortune is affairs and we are having more than wished. Do you see that shit over yonder, Sancho, look at those fucking giants! Let’s kick some ass and take the booty for our crusade to civilize the monkeys and that damn wicked witch. The father, the son, and the holy ghost will bless us!”

They took a lot of pictures that night of everyone having a great time. I appear to be left out of them all together though, maybe because I was too busy tilting at windmills and fetching my club out of the bushes. Rumor has it we went to T.G.I. Fridays after that and boozed but I don’t remember any of it. They say I had a 30 minute conversation with an old guy who I refused to believe wasn’t the old guy from The OC. We went back to the hotel after that, and so ended my second night in Myrtle Beach.