Myrtle FTW

An opening word on Myrtle Beach. A lot of you may know it from Girls Gone Wild videos or your own spring break experiences. When you are in the army, male, single and between the ages of eighteen and twenty-five Myrtle beach is a beacon of light shining only a few hours drive a way in a dark military town. In the spring time it is full of young college girls, tons of alcohol and plenty of mistakes waiting to be made. This is about one of the times I headed down there.

Most weekends in the army are pretty much the same. We would kind of hang out around the barracks, maybe go out to eat, go drinking, mundane shit like that. It just so happened that Face, definitely one of the newer but cooler guys in our platoon, had headed down to Myrtle. He called my cell about mid-day on our second day off. North was sitting in my room with me.

"Dude, Riley," He started. "You gotta come down here man. We had a wild night last night." Then he launched into a tale of underage drinking, hot women making out with each other and removing clothing, and general debauchery. This kid grew up in southern California and went to college at FSU. He burned his football scholarship by partying too much. If this kid was saying it was a good time he wasn't bullshitting.

I told Face I would call him back in a few and gave North the cliff notes version of the conversation that I just had. North can be a pretty stoic dude most of the time. When he said," Sure, sounds good. Let's go," I knew he was really excited about the opportunities that awaited.

We headed down the call really quick like to fill CC in on our plan. CC was about six feet tall but tipped the scales at about two bills. He grew up in "the region" which was part of northwest Indiana just next to Chicago. Apparently all they do out there is drink lots of booze. CC ability to hold it down was proof of this. His father was black and his mother white. I think you know where I am going with that. More on it later.

CC, obviously having nothing better on his itinerary, decided to join us. We quickly packed up some clothes and made the two hour drive down there.

We pulled up to the hotel our boys were staying at a snagged the room right next to theirs. There was a door in between our two rooms which led to enhanced drinking convenience. After talking to Face, Fitch, Ko, and Keys (most of the dudes that had seen the spectacle that was the night before we decided on a very wise course of action. The plan was as follows: drink all day, go out that night and drink some more and then just see what happens.

To implement the first stage in our plan we decided a keg was the best, most efficient solution. All that army training about organization was paying dividends right now. North and CC headed out to the booze shop while Keys, Face and I headed down to get some ice.

We me North and CC back at the room in a bit. They had returned victorious with not just one full keg but two. The only thing wrong was that they were full of Budweiser. Rice does not belong in beer. Oh well, almost anything tastes good out of a keg. We filled the bath tub with the ice and then the kegs and let the beer come forth.

If I remember right there was about ten or so of us partying it up that weekend. Both kegs were floating in approximately five hours. I shit you not. This is when the shenanigans started.

It was now about ten pm and time for the party to really get kicking. I decided to head across the street to this little joint named Freaky Tiki. Kind of the dumb club scene which I am not a huge fan of but there were boobs there. Boobs speak volumes after a lot of beer.

I was going to play the roll of wing man for Giovany. He was a tall, skinny bastard from the lovely island/nation/state thingy called Peurto Rico. He was a really smooth talker and had quite the way with the ladies. I am not usually a big fan of the wing man position. I try and be the lead to make up for my short height. Ha. But with Giovany's taste I would gladly take whatever happened on our way.

The club was pretty much the same lame scene that all of them are across the country. You know the type that I mean: A bunch of women dancing around with their friends, a bunch of guys standing to the side looking at them, the same lame rap/hip-hop/dance music playing, the same expensive drinks.

Things were looking up as the place was shutting down though. Three girls (a blonde, a brunette and a red head, weird) that we had been dancing with on and off throughout the night with us. Giovany asked them what they were up to. The brunette said that they were leaving because she had to work tomorrow. The other two said that they were down for some drinks. Sure that then bender was still raging back at our room Giovany and I convinced them to come back with us.

As we start our walk back North pulls up on the other side of the road in his BMW. CC is sitting shotgun. Now, you might be asking yourself,"Self, what is some guy in the army that only makes 30k a year doing with a BMW?" The answer is simple: Iraq money.

CC is leaning out the sunroof yelling at all of the women that they drive past. Such gems as,"Hey good lookin' what you got cookin' " and "Are you from Tennessee? Because you are the only ten I see!" were pouring out of his mouth. The guy is so loud but has that weird "teddy bear"quality that women love. Those that didn't laugh at what he was saying he promptly called skanks and ho's. I guess you can't be a teddy bear all the time.

CC yelled for us to hop in as North pulled the beamer over. The five of us somehow manage to cram into a backseat meant for three and pull back onto the strip. CC continues to look and yell at almost everything passing us by. Then he shouts down from his perch," Hey guys, check out these assholes."

Now, sometimes I see some things in the South that southerners might seem par for the course but they are weird to me having grown up in New York. Women dipping tobacco is one of these things. What was going on right next to us on the strip of downtown Myrtle beach easily pulls into my top five.

Picture a jacked up pickup truck, on huge wheels, with the back of the cab totally removed and the biggest confederate flag I have (still tot his day) seen in all of my life, flying on a six foot pole. And Hank Williams blasting over the stereo. I shit you not.

This opportunity was too much for CC to pass up.

He put on his best southern accent. "How the hell you boys doing too-night?"

The two of them, looking like they were straight from the set of Deliverance, look over at CC leaning out of a BMW sunroof. The looks on their faces clearly say,"Does not compute."

"Hey fella's! I think I saw some ni----- and jews a few blocks down. Whaddya say we go tie 'em up and beat 'em?"

Right about now I start planning out in my head how this fight is going to go and how I am going to get money to post bail. Thankfully, there are ATM machines in the cells at Myrtle.

The total lack of response from the truck could only mean one thing. These two guys were too dumb to know that CC was making fun of them.

At this point the light we are sitting at turns green. CC knows he has one last chance to say something.

"The south will rise again!" He yells at the top of his lungs. "Wooooo-wheee!" He screams as North punches it back down the strip.

We get back to our set of rooms and find the place in shambles. One bed is completely stripped of all the sheets and everything down to the bare mattress. Fitch and the guy who is his roommate back at Bragg are wearing their clothes not from today but from the day before. And there is a girl sleeping in just her panties in the bathtub.

"What in the holy fuck is going on here?" I ask.

"Dude, Riley, you won't believe the shit that just went down," Fitch explains. Turns out Fitch and his roommate found two really drunk girls walking around down on the beach. Doing what any infantryman would do in this situation they closed with and took the objective. All the way back to our room.

I guess they had a few more beers and they all started messing around. Fitch making out with one girl and his roommate the other. The fine lady that his roommate is messing around with has had far too much to drink and ends up passing out. Fitch, not wanting to leave a brother hanging convinces his girl into a threesome.

This gets a bit graphic so if you are easily offended or under the age of eighteen stop reading now. One thing leads to another and pretty soon this poor girl is on her hands as knees while Fitch is doing her from behind and she is fellating (always wanted to use that word) his roommate. All seems well and good until the copious amounts of booze catch up with this girl while she is clearly making the worst mistake of her young life. She starts to vomit.

Yes, you rad the right. She starts puking all over Fitches roommates penis.

Fitch doesn't miss a beat and keeps on going. No lie.

So after all is said and done they strip the sheets and everything off the bed and throw them in the dumpster outside because they smelled so bad. The only article of pukey girls clothing that she can find is her panties so she puts those on and goes and passes out in the tub. The logic of this escapes me but what can you do?

The brunette and red head that are with us are clearly dismayed by the telling of this story. I can't possibly see why. I am sure that I will tell it to my children one day as I tuck them into bed.

Regardless, CC breaks out a bottle of Jim Beam from somewhere and we start passing it around. This is obviously a bad idea. Conversation resumes and with a bit of an assist from Giovany I start to make out with the blonde. She not really pretty at all. She has some weird thing with her hair and her bangs going on that I thought got left in the eighties and a little bit of snaggle-tooth action in the grill. At this point it's about three am and I have been drinking for almost twelve hours. I was definitely at the settle for less in hopes to do more stage. Say what you will about me but at least I am honest.

You ever heard that saying about the best laid plans of mice and men? Yeah, that happens right here.

"Blonde, what are we going to do the rest of the night?" The brunette asks.

"Um, hang out for a bit here?" She replies.

"I have to work at nine in the morning," Came the terse reply. "I can't spend all night in some seedy hotel room with you while you make out with random guys."

Ouch, that one hurt.

"You know, the door is right there. Just be careful it doesn't hit that huge ass of yours" This girl was not fat by any means. CC just knew how to easily offend women.

Clearly miffed the brunette kept daylong. "Blonde, I mean if you want to stay here for just good company that's one thing. If you just want to stay to have sex with this guy that's another." Good company was obviously not going to be found here. Maybe down the hall or at the Kiwanis lions club down the block but not in rooms 118 and 120. My chances were clearly evaporating fast.

"I think I should get going," The blonde said to me.

Poof. Gone.

Always the gentleman (ha, right) I replied. "Sure that's cool since you let your friend run your life and make your decisions for you. "

Right now it's clear to all that I am grasping at straws.

"Well I am going to head home. Have a good night," She said as she grabbed her purse and headed out the door.

"That's right! Thank you very much! Have a good fucking night you fat skanks!" CC yelled as the door closed.

About one minute later the events clearly set into Giovany's alcohol laden brain. "Yo, Riley just got cock-blocked by a girl!" He starts laughing.

The room fills with laughter with my voice among them. If it wasn't able to laugh at myself I would have died a long time ago.

After a few minutes we decide to go grab some breakfast. We also decide to take our friend Jim Beam along with us.

As North, CC and myself are getting into the beamer we see two very attractive ladies walking by, We ask them if they would like to get breakfast with us. Either the three of us seem really legit or these girls didn't have that "bad idea" alarm in their head because they get into the car with us.

We drive a few blocks down, find a place that's open and pull into the parking lot. Jim Beam makes his way out and we start passing the bottle around. We are all doing two or three count pulls off this thing with about three-quarters of the liquor left in it. Then one of the random girls we picked up does a six count. Not to be outdone CC does a ten count pull off this bottle.

The bottle now empty we toss it and head inside for some grease with a side of eggs. This place is clearly full of other drunken idiots such as ourselves. We sit down, start sipping some water, bullshitting and start looking at the menus. Then one of the randoms pipes up.

"Is your friend ok?" She asks.

CC has clearly gone from his normal shade of light brown to pale with a tinge of green. Trouble was coming.

Thinking quickly North grabs the empty coffee mug at his place setting and sticks it under CC mouth. CC grabs it just as he starts to puke in it. As these mugs are obviously much smaller than the contents of CC's stomach I have another mug ready to replace the one in his hand. He partly fills this one up too.

"All right," That's it I say. "Let's go find a waffle house. They don't care if you puke on the tables there." I toss a couple bucks down on the table for whoever is unfortunate enough to clean up this mess and we head out the door.

We did end up making it to Waffle House and CC did end up surviving. And we were left with plenty of good stories to tell on Monday morning.