The gang goes to the beach!

Myrtle Beach, South Carolina was a frequent family destination for summer vacations in my younger years. It would always be me, my sister, and parents off on a whirlwind adventure to some ocean-view hotel. We haven't had one of these in a while (probably due to the fact that my parents are divorced; talk about an awkward drive), but when we did, they always followed a concrete, 10-step template:

1) Everyone fights on nine hour car ride, hates each other upon arrival
2) Check into hotel whose lobby smells faintly of damp laundry
3) Buy two boogie boards and maybe, like, a shark-tooth necklace
4) Go into ocean with Dad
5) Get sunburned
6) Blister, pick off blisters
7) Lose boogie board
8) Almost drown
9) Dry off
10) Go home, yell at family again

That trend was bucked this year, however; the gang was a little bit less conventional. No parents in sight, and, one year ago, I knew none of my fellow vacationers.

So, let's meet the other players!

Fellow writer and best friend, Courtney; has a thing with facial hair

My Mom's boyfriend, James; likes polos and cars

James' son, Micah; is nine years old and acts his age

One of my favorite things about vacationing is getting to try exotic flavors and ingredients. My palette hasn't quite grown immune to the delicious and affordable siren call of Taco Bell, but fast food has become increasingly less appetizing as the years have gone by. My hometown isn't exactly known for its local cuisine, either. So, it was with great pleasure I got to try swordfish at a little place by the sea called "The Captain's House". Now, I don't love eating fish. It's always a little too, well, fishy-tasting for my liking. That being said... uh, well, my dinner didn't really do very much to change my mind. The Caesar salad was delicious, though--ooh, and we got a kid's menu, too, so it definitely wasn't a total loss.

O Captain! My Captain!

I believe it was the following day that we all went for a walk and decided to get some tattoos. We're fickle and impulsive like that. (Spoiler: they were henna.) A nice Italian man, straight out of a future iteration of The Jersey Shore, talked us all into paying our hard-earned dollars in exchange for some paint on our arms. Worth it!

Cooler than you

Let's break down the what and the why of these sick tats...

Feels good, man

Micah
-Tattoo: dragon
-Reason: likes dragons

I just feel like it's missing something

James
-Tattoo: sadly nippleless mermaid
-Reason: likes fish, girls; not a huge fan of nipples, I guess

Watch close; I can make him dance

Zack
-Tattoo: Yipes, the Fruit Stripe Gum zebra
-Reason: wanted a fake tattoo of a fake tattoo; likes zebras

Is it a mustache or an upside-down seagull? NOBODY KNOWS

Courtney
-Tattoo: mustache on index finger
-Reason: so she can fulfill her primal need to have facial hair (instead of simply waiting until she's old)

After the ink had been carved into our sensitive flesh, we set back out upon our original quest: to find the mythical Gay Dolphin. We stumbled upon this oddly named "gift cove" in a directory given to us at the hotel, and there was no way I wasn't going. Upon locating the exact position of said flamboyant mammal, our pace quickened; the thought of visiting such a joyous and wonderful place fed fuel to our steps. Then we got there and...! Wait, this place isn't fun or colorful or anything. "Boo!" I yelled at no one in particular. Micah was especially disappointed, as he, for reasons unknown, had really been hoping to see a genuine homosexual bottlenose.

The most exciting part of the store:

Not pictured: antagonistic "Homophobic Shark" gift shop across street

"I just want to sit in the sand; please sit with me," I pleaded to Courtney. We were walking along the beach fairly late at night, and I wanted to sit back and enjoy the beautiful moonlight. Naturally, being a girl, she didn't want icky sand all over her, however. And, naturally, me being a petulant child, I sat in the sand and pouted until she obliged and joined me in the rising tide. There are few things more beautiful than the ocean at night, and I was enjoying my time with my best friend. Finally, we decided our stay in the sand was over, and I made a move to stand up. And then I promptly tipped into the ocean.

There had to be 20 pounds of sand in my swimming trunks. And I mean in the lining, too; this stuff wasn't coming out without a fight. I stand up in the surf and try to no avail to remove the mud from my shorts. The waves hit me hard and knock me over repeatedly. "Help! I'm going to drown because I have so much freakin' sand in my pants!" I may have yelled to Courtney. She assisted in removing the obstruction over the course of a 15-minute wringing session that almost definitely looked sexual to any by-standers on the dark beach. But it wasn't, I swear. I didn't enjoy it at all.

The sea was angry that day, my friends

On our last day, we journeyed to the NASCAR Speedpark--something James had been looking forward to for his entire adult life. As you can imagine, there was lots of racing memorabilia, names I didn't recognize, and stuff about cars. But forget that boring crap; we did fun things!

Like golf...

"James lines up for the putt. He appears to be using the
Meineke, AMP Energy Drink, Goodyear putter today."

... and dominating carnival games...

Courtney is way fatter than she looks

... and getting astronomical wedgies...

I am now a tenor

... and racing...

The only competitor over the age of 10

... and losing.

NO BUMPING!

NEXT TIME: With glitter on my eyes and stockings ripped all up the sides, I go-oh-oh to a Ke$ha concert; promptly die of glitter inhalation