11:32am- Wake up ready to relax by pool first morning in Myrtle Beach. First stop off at hotel restaurant to order breaded broccoli and cheese appetizer (in my college days we called them Dyna-Bites!) Arteries clog after third bite. Heart stops after fourth.
12:02pm- Snake way through not inconsiderable crowd to find one vacant chair by pool. Gaze towards swimming hole and am disgusted to see nothing but people, people, and more people and a small shimmer of what I think is murky pool water. Climb down ladder and squeeze self between vacationing bodies into the people-temperatured water. Immune system attacked by germs so copious and determined that no amount of chlorine would suffice.
1:30pm- Am forced to endure 56-year-old, Hilton-employed DJ spinnin’ all the hits fit for the masses. The Macarena, Electric Slide, some fucking song about football, and lots and lots of country (and not the good kind). Slip down into pool water between fat Midwesterner and fat Southerner and drown self. Not discovered until 5pm when hotel’s buffet service begins.
3:13pm- Come back to room to discover room service ordered late the night before still sitting in front of door even though room has been cleaned. Bend over to get closer look at remains of chicken dinner. Inhale moldy spore.
8:42pm- Have dinner with boyfriend and boyfriend’s client. Boyfriend’s very nice super-Christian, conservative southern client who believes Walmart employees are happy with their low pay and lack of benefits because they’re always smiling when he shops there. Bite tongue. Bleed out.
Other than that, pretty good day.
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