Myrtle Beach: It’s what’s happenin’, baby…

The four of us had made our way out to Gino’s, the local burger place. There wasn’t that much to do in Dover. We had the airman’s club, the NCO club, the civilian bars, and the liquor joints. That was about it. So, we had to make do with what we had available to us.

All of the civilians we encountered were always whacked out. Of course, we didn’t touch the stuff ourselves. We were more into Bud and Miller and Manhattan ice teas.

And, most assuredly, a man’s gotta eat. Even if it’s a cold burger. So, that’s how Steven E., Doofus, Ash and I ended up at Gino’s.

A motley crew, for sure. I was the only sane one of the bunch, and that was only because I had the grading pencil in my hands.

Steven E. was from Boston, so he always dropped his r’s. He pawked caws after getting a drink from the bubbler. He was an artist of some note, even though the only canvas he painted was the one he spilled oil on when he worked on his car.

Doofus was a wrestler from Wisconsin. He was the baddest man in town. You don’t pull the mask off the old Lone Ranger and you don’t mess around with Dan.

Ash was the entrepreneur of the group. His idea of a good business transaction was selling bologna sandwiches in the barracks at a twenty cent markup. His business acumen worked out, though. He now drives a BMW and has a sauna off of his master suite.

I was only with the group because I was able to save a few bucks out of my paycheck to afford a beat up jalopy and buy gas for it every two weeks. I was the designated driver because nobody else could afford transportation.

Any who, as we were munching away on our burgers and fries in Gino’s parking lot, two young ladies approached the car. They were dressed in the milieu of the sixties, which meant that they wore a tie dyed T shirt, jeans and sandals. They approached the passenger door where Steven E. was sitting. The red head immediately started yapping about Myrtle Beach. She yelled emphatically, “Let’s go to Myrtle Beach. It’s what’s happenin’, baby.” I had no reason to not believe her, even though I had no desire to travel there, since we had a perfectly acceptable beach a few miles down the road.

However, none of us were interested in either girl’s desire to visit Myrtle Beach. We were only interested in more primitive pursuits.

Doofus yelled from the back, “Get in. Let’s go to the beach.” I thought that it was somewhat autocratic of him to offer up my vehicle to these nubiles without my permission, but I readily went along with him. The redhead jumped in beside me and Steven E. and the blond flopped down between Doofus and Ash.

We drove around the city for a few hours. Of course, we only talked. The subjects ranged from the war in Viet Nam to the evolutionary migration of humans out of East Africa. It was an interesting evening.

After we had squeezed all of the fun that we could out of the Beach girls, I drove back to Gino’s and dropped them off unceremoniously. We then headed back to the base ASAP, because roller derby was about to start on the Philly FM TV channel.

I finally got to Myrtle Beach many years later. I wasn’t impressed with the place. In fact, I don’t remember much about it. However, I do remember that night at Gino’s.