You may have been wondering what TxtMsgBtl has been up to for the past week. The answer: he was at Myrtle Beach -- land of pancake houses, mini-golf courses and beachwear shops with names like "Waves."
There is something overwhelmingly still about MyrtleLand, probably due to the palpable humidity, the fast food joints lining the highways, the masses of frat guys congregated in front of every house. Let's just say my week there was more than enough time to appreciate the Myrtleness.
In some ways, though, this very same stillness is the appeal of a place like Myrtle Beach, right? Time is not an issue; you can do whatever you please. Like the burly bikers omnipresent at Myrtle (it was Bike Week while we were there, but one gets the sense that every week is a sort of Bike Week in Myrtle Beach), who ride and ride and ride, seemingly without a cause, no one really seems to have any sense of destination or overarching purpose when they're there.
On the mini-golf course one day, an elderly couple caught up to my leisurely group of four. We asked them if they wanted to play through - polite golfers that we are - but the man just frowned slightly. "Oh, it's fine," he said. "There's no hurry. There's no where to go."