It was an excruciatingly long drive, but I finally made it. "Welcome to Myrtle Beach" proclaimed a semi-rusty, pre-Vietnam road sign. Almost immediately, I got lost again. I drove aimlessly around the marina before pulling up on the pavement and stepping out.
I gagged as a fresh heatwave hit me. I stumbled and steadied myself against a lamppost. Bad idea. I jumped back in pain as the hot iron burned my palm. "Sod it" I muttered as I looked around. The locals passing by took interested glances at me and chuckled as they walked by. Maybe I shouldn't have worn a suit.
"Excuse me, do you know where I can find the, ummm, Football Stadium?" I asked a cowboy hat wielding local.
"You must be mistaken. We don't play soccer here." He retorted, picking up on my clean, South West London accent.
"No, no. I meant the Football Stadium. I play for the Bucs."
The local looked at me bewildered. "You?" He laughed, a loud, long laugh as if he's just been told something incredibly funny. "That way" he waved his arm in a vague direction. "Now stop wasting my time!"
"Thanks for that" I muttered as I climbed back into my car, which was now bordering on a microwave.
"Stupid Brits" the old hillbilly muttered as I started my car.
"Oh and by the way! You did lose in Vietnam and you lost badly! It was a fucking military disaster!" I roared over the sound of my engine, before speeding of.
Having found the Stadium and dropped my stuff off, I decided to explore this odd part of the country. I naturally changed out of my suit and into a team polo and a pair of shorts. Anything more was bordering on involuntarily redundancy of my life. I ducked into a semi-respectable looking bar and sat down. "Gin & Tonic please" I mumbled at the barman. He pushed me something that definitely wasn't Gin & Tonic, but tasted vaguely similar.
"Whatcha doing in Myrtle Beach buddy" the barman asked, his beady eyes watching me closely.
"I play for the Football Team" was my tired answer.
The barman looked at me before taking his phone out and looking at something.
"Give me some ID." I was taken aback, because I had totally forgotten about the US drinking age. Whatever it was, I was under it. I gently handed him my ID Card. He scrutinised it before handing it back.
"Hey! This skinny fucker plays for the Bucs!" I was immediately mobbed by America's finest, asking me stuff. It was a good 2 hours before I finally got out.
I stumbled out into the cold night time air. The town had gone surprisingly calm, as I sat down on the marina. It reminded of Brighton, but without the stones and the constant smell of weed in the air. Unlike Brighton, it was relaxing, enjoyable. I felt almost refreshed walking back to the Stadium, when in reality I was pissed as a rat. I couldn't wait to start my Footballing adventure in this lovely, but a little bit odd place.
I gagged as a fresh heatwave hit me. I stumbled and steadied myself against a lamppost. Bad idea. I jumped back in pain as the hot iron burned my palm. "Sod it" I muttered as I looked around. The locals passing by took interested glances at me and chuckled as they walked by. Maybe I shouldn't have worn a suit.
"Excuse me, do you know where I can find the, ummm, Football Stadium?" I asked a cowboy hat wielding local.
"You must be mistaken. We don't play soccer here." He retorted, picking up on my clean, South West London accent.
"No, no. I meant the Football Stadium. I play for the Bucs."
The local looked at me bewildered. "You?" He laughed, a loud, long laugh as if he's just been told something incredibly funny. "That way" he waved his arm in a vague direction. "Now stop wasting my time!"
"Thanks for that" I muttered as I climbed back into my car, which was now bordering on a microwave.
"Stupid Brits" the old hillbilly muttered as I started my car.
"Oh and by the way! You did lose in Vietnam and you lost badly! It was a fucking military disaster!" I roared over the sound of my engine, before speeding of.
Having found the Stadium and dropped my stuff off, I decided to explore this odd part of the country. I naturally changed out of my suit and into a team polo and a pair of shorts. Anything more was bordering on involuntarily redundancy of my life. I ducked into a semi-respectable looking bar and sat down. "Gin & Tonic please" I mumbled at the barman. He pushed me something that definitely wasn't Gin & Tonic, but tasted vaguely similar.
"Whatcha doing in Myrtle Beach buddy" the barman asked, his beady eyes watching me closely.
"I play for the Football Team" was my tired answer.
The barman looked at me before taking his phone out and looking at something.
"Give me some ID." I was taken aback, because I had totally forgotten about the US drinking age. Whatever it was, I was under it. I gently handed him my ID Card. He scrutinised it before handing it back.
"Hey! This skinny fucker plays for the Bucs!" I was immediately mobbed by America's finest, asking me stuff. It was a good 2 hours before I finally got out.
I stumbled out into the cold night time air. The town had gone surprisingly calm, as I sat down on the marina. It reminded of Brighton, but without the stones and the constant smell of weed in the air. Unlike Brighton, it was relaxing, enjoyable. I felt almost refreshed walking back to the Stadium, when in reality I was pissed as a rat. I couldn't wait to start my Footballing adventure in this lovely, but a little bit odd place.
![[Image: O5O0qJS.jpg]](https://i.imgur.com/O5O0qJS.jpg)
Myrtle Beach, Best Beach ![[Image: IMG-4366.jpg]](https://i.postimg.cc/xdHdnN1X/IMG-4366.jpg)
![[Image: 031p.png]](https://i.postimg.cc/NFRVWYW8/031p.png)
![[Image: clemente.gif]](https://sig.grumpybumpers.com/host/clemente.gif)
![[Image: tinytimsbutthole.gif]](https://sig.grumpybumpers.com/host/tinytimsbutthole.gif)
![[Image: unknown.png]](https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/652640309615919137/899936706411773952/unknown.png)
