At Last! A Date with the Atlantic!

Heaven.

My tour of the Carolinas wrapped up in Myrtle Beach and I can't think of a better ending to a lovely work week. All of the many hours spent driving my rented Kia Spectra (surprisingly good pickup) on two-lane highways were worth it to spend half an hour in communion with my favorite awe-inspiring locale: the beach.



From Charlotte we went to Rock Hill, then back to Charlotte, then to Columbia and from there to Myrtle Beach. My hotel was an unfortunate error in judgement, being in the middle of Broadway at the Beach. Neither Broadway nor the beach were in sight of this hotel. Just hordes of vacationing families opting to soak up chain food, chain shopping and chain amusements... all while a most incredible beach was a 2-minute drive away. When I got into my room, I could hear the faint screams of children on some form of amusement park ride. At least I assume that's why they were screaming. Could have been a T-Rex roaming the place and I wouldn't have noticed.



But never mind all that. Upon arriving in MB, my colleagues and I set out for the beach and scored a parking spot of perfection - right where the parking lot turns from pavement to sand. I fairly bounded down to the water, tossing my shoes and my bag onto the sand and dashing to get my toes in the Atlantic. And what a magical night it was. A storm system brewing off the Carolinas made for some rip currents and middling waves, but the temperature of the water was somewhere in the 70s! You simply don't get water that warm in the Atlantic up north. It was incredible, the water a greenish-gray frothing friend.



I've lived away from the ocean for many years now and it's the one thing I've ever missed about growing up on Long Island. The primeval scents that waft off the water, the softly salty air, the endless horizon... the ocean has always been a love for me. (And it can be a dangerous relationship; I almost drowned off the Hamptons when I was about 21. There was a storm brewing then, too, which created a hellacious rip current.)



But my spirits were lifted and I felt childlike standing in the waves and getting the bottom of my skirt soaked accidentally, letting my toes sink into the sucking wet sand and looking for shells.

The Sea Captain's House. Yarrr, you'll be waitin' for Davy Jones hisself to serve ya in this wee restaurant where time slows to a grindin' halt for that landlubber Jimmy Buffet's cover songs.


We were right near a restaurant that had been recommended - The Sea Captain's House. It's literally a house on the beach in classic gray clapboard. We walked in and were greeted by a septuagenarian hostess who calmly informed us there would be at least an hour wait. We decided to give it a go as the waiting area was the backyard with a view of the beach and a bar. But half an hour in, when no one in this large but breezy beach bum lounge lizard purgatory had been seated, we decided to move on. The old woman of the sea suggested the Flamingo Grill and off we went to North Myrtle Beach.



The meal was delicious - seafood should really only be eaten in places where one can see sand on the ground. And it topped off a perfect seaside evening.


Driving to and from Myrtle Beach takes a long time as there is no major road in or out. But the views along the way are wonderful. It reminded me a lot of driving out to Montauk.

I drove home a day early because I realized I simply have too much to do before leaving for Denmark Sunday. But it was enough to have Thursday night in the arms of my oldest love, the ocean. Sigh.

Me and my boyfriend. Long distance relationships are so difficult.