Myrtle Beach. What is there to say about such a seasonal debaucherous town. Beautiful beaches lined with cheap bars, bountiful hotels with pools two hundred feet from the Atlantic, and smoke filled clubs that could trigger an asthma attack in a marathon runner. Strip clubs line the highway beckoning to unfortunate and lonely travelers who need to pay for unfamiliar, scantily clad attention. Myrtle beach is like the geographic equivalent of dousing oneself in cologne instead of taking a shower. Or covering a dirty face with glitter instead of cleaning it. But with all the glitter and axe body spray, polo shirts, dubs, bros, and two dollar pitchers, there is something about this area that ensures you that its okay to be loud and boisterous. Its alright to swear across a crowded bar to a friend and to hang out on a beach all day even though its only 60 degrees. And we got a brand new Sebring for a couple days so I suppose my baller status is up to par with the local bros. Lets go jump it off speed bumps.