Myrtle Madness Part II: Max & Ruby Red and the Parking Lot of Doom

A warning to my more tenderhearted readers: this post is rated PG.

(Picking up where we left our heroes in Part 1…)

Our trip back from nighttime singing and swimming wasn’t exactly the smoothest. Try as we might, our eagle eyes managed to miss the turn in for our beach community. After about four miles, Leigh and I (driving again) agreed that it would be best to turn around. Leigh pointed out a Goodyear dealership, large enough for me to pull a three-point turn, and we headed in.

My first instinct that something was amiss at this location was that, at 2am, the place was packed. Cars in every open spot, a line behind our van for entrance, and no lights on. And, as our headlights shone over to one side, I observed a strange sight: a very tall, leggy woman, wearing three inch, red stiletto heels, red, sequined booty shorts and a tiny halter top climbed out of the passenger seat of a car. She slunk over to another waiting car. She opened the passenger door and sat down. The door closed. The woman’s head disappeared below the dashboard.

“Ethan,” Leigh said calmly, but firmly. “I think we need to get out of here.”

As I put the car into reverse to complete the turn, I realized the folly of our ways. We drive Sprinters, which are extra-long maxivans. They beep when we back up. Every head in the lot turned.

All of a sudden, two men popped out about ten feet in front of the van, both wearing suits and looking not so happy. Leigh reported two behind us. Three girls popped out on the side. All, apparently, walking towards the van. And not looking too happy. “Go, Ethan,” Leigh urged. “Go, go, GO!!” That was all I needed to hear.

The car swung out of the parking lot and towards the safety of the highway without hitting anyone or anything. And without any of us meeting up with the underbelly of Pawleys Island.

If you are looking for a good time in Myrtle Beach, might I suggest you avoid the Goodyear dealership?


Kid quote of the day: We had an audience that ended up seeing us post show, as they exited the gymnacafetorium through our backdrops. As we were all still in costume, we waved at the kids. One very precocious little boy approached me (still in the Gracie costume) and asked, very earnestly, “Why are you a boy in a dress?”

Call tomorrow: You’re kidding, right?