So, it’s Day 3 here in SC, and this place sure is friendly. On the first morning, I woke up to the ocean waving at me. “Good morning, ocean,” I told it as I waved back. Then, it kept waving, not knowing when to quit. “Ok, I already waved back, good morning to you, that’s enough.” The waving continued, unabated. “Seriously, that’s enough,” I yelled, as I frantically waved, jumping up and down to underscore my point. Still, the ocean mocked me–wave after wave. “Keep waving, bucko,” it seemed to say, “I can keep this up all day.” This had quickly become a battle of wills. So, the ocean and I spent the next 8 hours in a waving contest to see who would be the first one to blink. I lost. After a family meeting, everyone thought it would be a good idea if I moved to a bedroom without an ocean view. So, now I wake up to the driveway, which doesn’t bother to acknowledge me. In the end, I think this is better, though.
The neighbors are also friendly. Yesterday morning, I went out on the balcony to do my morning stretching routine, and the next door neighbors, who were eating breakfast, starting waving frantically at me. “Good morning, friends, good to see you too,” I shouted as I waved back. Like the ocean, they just kept waving at me like a bunch of buffoons. “Yeah, lovely morning, isn’t it, have a nice breakfast.” Still, they continued waving. Well, not so much waving anymore, but they were definitely gesturing. And they were yelling at me in some foreign language that I couldn’t gather. “Yare, robespun!!!” they shouted. “Buenos dias to you!,” I yelled back, hoping that my rudimentary Spanish might bridge the gap. “Yare, robespun,” they repeated, followed by “Wekan seure parz.” Frustrated, I decided that the best solution was to ignore them, and go back to my stretches. Then, as I leaned into downward dog, I suddenly made the connection. My robe, which had been securely fastened had crept open during my waving. It turned out that the neighbors went out for breakfast and ended up with a show. Later, after giving my statement to the police, I found out that they weren’t foreign at all, it’s just that sound doesn’t carry when the waves are crashing in the background. After that, we had another family meeting and decided that maybe I should do my morning yoga in the garage. I think it’s better, after all, because the shade makes things a lot cooler.
Finally, I am on the hunt for the ultimate souvenir. Our first day here, we went to a beach shop to pick up a few things—beach toys, goggles, towels, croc-offs (fake crocs, cleverly named by Jeff), etc. While there, I noticed some common themes running through all of the store’s t-shirt stock–everything had some combination of confederate flags, South Carolina state flags, Elvis, or wolves. So, I am now looking for the Holy Grail of beach souvenirs: a t-shirt that depicts Elvis–who is wearing a Confederate flag–riding on a wolf across the beach, with the South Carolina state flag flying proudly in the background. Is it going to be easy to find? No, but with any great vacation comes hard work, and I’m all stretched out, waved out, and ready to shop!
