Day 4: Myrtle Beach Joy

Sorry for the delay with this post. We had some interwebs difficulties down at the Holden Beach property. Yeah, I meant for that to sound as though I own that particular property just as I own Connecticut Avenue, the Reading Railroad and Park Place. What of it?

Now for the delayed gist: we got up and went to breakfast at The Purple Onion (no affiliation with Prince) sans The Mayor, Vernon and Kelly. Instead, as I glass-half-emptily predicted, they sought refuge in the Verizon store to replace their waterlogged phones. Due to a lengthy battle with the clerks who were hell-bent on them paying the $600 retail price for replacement devices, they missed the cut off time for breakfast at TPO. Not to rub it in, but I had the BEST cinnamon roll I have even consumed in my nearly 14,600 days on this revolving celestial orb. No lie. When it arrived, it looked dry and stale as though it had been sitting there lonely all morning just hoping for cinnamon roll loving fool to partake of its sweet and joyful goodness.

Once we gathered up the new phone folks, we were off to Myrtle Beach to bum around shopping for the day and to take in the Pelicans game at night. We went to Broadway at the Beach, which seemed to have absolutely nothing to do with Broadway, and was not really at the beach, per se. Geographical untruths were clearly in play here. The Mayor took me to a sports memorabilia store where I struggled over a decision to add an autographed Cal Ripken, Jr. 1983 World Series baseball to my wall of joy. I did not give in to this temptation, although there is still time for the mind to be changed.

We had dinner and strolled down Broadway before heading over to the game. We parked, got our tickets and headed to the seats. For a minor league A-ball affiliate, this was a really great place. The stadium was new, the seats were comfy and there was a team mascot dog suitable for petting in the team store along with the new batting practice hat that now adorns my cranium. Hats hide the hairline, so I figure that as long as I don’t turn to the dark side and start wearing useless visors, I can continue to avert attention from my gradually thinning mane before eventually succumbing to the Hair Club for Men, while also keeping up with the latest baseball fashion. Two birds...or shall I say, two pelicans? Ha! Get it? Pelicans? My comedic genius knows no bounds. I should probably be compensated handsomely for this stuff.

The Pelicans played a great game and won by a solid seven-run margin. Post-game festivities included a cheesy country song played live and acoustically by Pelicans pitching coach, Brad Holman, about how he loves the fans and without them, the players couldn’t play, blah, blah, insert country music lyric, blah. However, I’d welcome a daily listen as long as his pitchers and Splash, the mascot, came out every time to serve as backup dancers. See a portion of this cheese-filled awesomeness by clicking below:

Yes...one minute and 45 seconds of your life that you'll never get back, but I double dog dare you to even try to get that song out of your head.That American Idol performance was followed by a fireworks display and an opportunity for the kids to run the bases. Apparently, “kid” is defined by age 12 and under, so this guy was stopped at the door, which simply isn’t right. Why does all the good stuff get turned off after one turns 12? I know…right?

Game over and the ride home commences… A stop at the Bi-Lo grocery store for ice cream sandwiches and fatback and back in the car for the 40-minute trek back to Holden Beach…

The Mayor and his wife have a babysitter for their twins who joined them for the week in Holden Beach. She’s really more of a paid entertainer for the kids than a babysitter and does a really fine job keeping them from setting things aflame. What I didn’t initially realize is that it appears they bring her along to entertain EVERYONE. On the way home, she had herself in stitches as she misremembered punch lines to corny jokes, made elephant sounds somehow emerge from some portion of her head, and snort-laughed multiple times to the delight of all. I’m not sure if she overdosed on Cheerwine or what, but she proved to be quite amusing as we laughed both with and at her. She only had one demand in return for providing the return-trip entertainment…that she be mentioned on the blog for all to recognize her country greatness. So here’s your 15 seconds of fame, Brook(e). Enjoy and take pride in it!

It is finished…except for one more thing. As we sat at the table munching on the freshly fried, salty, crunchy, bacony joy that is fatback, I felt the cord for the computer brush up again my calf. I then noticed that the cord ran along the floor about a foot to my left, so I checked to see what could be the source of the sensation. My Fontbonne friends know the answer. Yes, indeed, it was a roach (aka water bug) taking the very same path his Missouri cousin marched in January 2011. Due to my prior roach experience, however, I did not allow him to make it up as far as my kneecap before I realized my plight and shooed him away. Roach crisis avoided…

And now, you may see today’s photos HERE.

Tomorrow’s agenda: Back to Fort Mill for the Charlotte Knights game.

Sleep. Now. I. Must.