North Myrtle Beach: The Overwhelming Aroma Of Racism
- BlackFolxsTravel
- Jan 29
- 5 min read
Sometimes, you visit a place and leave already planning your next trip back. North Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, was Definitely Not one of those places for me. If anything, this stop on my journey will forever live in infamy as one of the worst travel experiences I’ve ever had. I went with an open mind, I tried to find little moments of joy, but the stench of racism was inescapable, so thick in the air it was practically suffocating.
From the moment I arrived, I felt it. Whether it was stepping into a restaurant to grab a meal, taking a casual stroll on the beach, or simply existing in certain spaces, the atmosphere had a vibe, and it wasn't a good one. It wasn’t just a feeling, it was visible. MAGA coolers, MAGA beach chairs, MAGA umbrellas, the shit was everywhere and too prominent to ignore, it was like a silent but clear warning.
Now, I’ll give credit where it’s due. I did find a couple of decent restaurants with Great food AND Service, there was also this one rooftop lounge that had a vibe that felt welcoming. But the downside? The audience there was way too young for a 50-year-old to even attempt to blend in. So, after a brief stay, I bounced, because nothing is worse than looking like that old dude trying to be "cool"
I made the most of my time on the beach by embracing my inner child, collecting seashells and small ocean gems like I did as a kid. That, at least, was peaceful. But outside of those quiet moments, I found myself spending more time in South Myrtle Beach, which, thankfully, had a more diverse and energetic feel to it. Each day, however, I was reminded that I had to drive back to my hotel in North Myrtle Beach. That constant awareness, that uncomfortable feeling of not belonging, never left me.
Maybe it’s just me, but I like my vacations without the overwhelming aroma of racism. I prefer to walk into a restaurant without feeling like my presence is some sort of disturbance. And call me crazy, but being looked at like I'd probably look pretty good tied to a stake with a rope around my neck isn’t my idea of ‘Funtimes’, But hey, that’s just me.
Finally, it was time to leave. I checked out of my hotel and hit the road, eager to put this trip behind me. I figured once I got out of town, the worst was over. I was wrong.
Flying down Interstate 20, somewhere deep in the backwoods of South Carolina, my driver's side back tire blew out. And I don’t mean a slow leak, I mean a full-on blowout while doing well over 80 miles per hour.
For a split second, time slowed. My truck veered slightly, I gripped the steering wheel, focusing everything I had on keeping control. I managed to guide the vehicle over to the right shoulder, with my heart pounding in my chest. I exhaled and, I called Triple A.
They told me a tow truck would be dispatched and that I was now “in queue.” Cool. I could wait. But after 45 minutes of nothing, I called back, only to get the same response: "You are still in queue."
At that moment, I realized I might be here for more than a little minute. I looked around and saw nothing but trees, asphalt, the highway, cars and 18 wheelers speeding by, and the lingering paranoia of night catching me here, and being stranded in a place where I really didn’t want to be stuck. So, I made a decision, I’m changing the damn tire myself!! I got out of my truck, changed out of my "good clothes," and got to work. What I didn’t factor in was the experience of changing a tire on the side of a highway while facing oncoming traffic.
It felt like every single 18-wheeler in America decided to pass me during those moments. Each one roared past at high speed, causing the ground beneath me to shake. The wind gusts they generated made me momentarily lose my balance as I struggled with the tire iron.
There I was, crouched on the shoulder, hyper aware of every passing truck , bracing myself against the wind as I worked to get that spare on. It wasn’t just the physical challenge, it was the mental one. The whole time, a nagging thought ran through my head, If one of these trucks swerves just a little too far…Damn!!!!
But eventually, I got the spare tire on. Victory. I got back in my truck, hands covered in dirt and grease, sweat dripping down my face, a moment of relief. The drama was over, right? That's what I thought.
Moments later, the bottom of the sky fell out. Torrential rain, so heavy I could barely see ten feet in front of me. The roads instantly turned into slippery death traps, and I was driving on a SPARE TIRE! All I could do was grip the wheel, keep my eyes on the road, and thank God that the rain hadn’t started while I was changing the tire. That alone felt like a blessing. I took my time, slowly and cautiously driving through the storm, and eventually made it back to Atlanta, exhausted but safe.
The next morning, 18 hours after I had initially called them, my phone rang. It was Triple A.
"Hi, we’re just calling to check if you’re in a safe location. You are still in queue for service."
I stared at the phone in disbelief. A full 18 hours after I had nearly been stranded in the backwoods of South Carolina, they were just now following up. Without saying a word, and for my mental well being, I hung up. There was nothing to say. I was already home.
If there was ever a trip I’d never repeat, this was it. North Myrtle Beach was a disaster wrapped in an even bigger disaster. From the tension-filled environment to the near-death experience on the highway, everything about this journey screamed, don’t ever come back here again!
But even in the midst of all the chaos, I found gratitude. Gratitude that I had the ability to fix my own tire when I needed to. Gratitude that the rain held up until I was back on the road. Gratitude that, despite everything, I made it back home in one piece.
I’ve had plenty of unforgettable trips in my life, but this one? This one I’ll remember for all the wrong reasons. North Myrtle Beach, we are never getting back together. Matter of Fact, I don't see the ENTIRE State of South Carolina in my travels for the near future.
My Takeaway:
Some places leave a mark on your heart, while others leave a reminder of why you should never return. Not every journey is meant to be revisited, and not every place will welcome you with open arms. Trust your instincts, if a place feels unwelcoming, don’t force it. And when life throws unexpected challenges your way, be prepared to rely on yourself. Strength isn’t just about endurance, it’s also about knowing when to take matters into your own hands and when to move on, NEVER LOOKING BACK
-Please leave a comment and share your thoughts; Hopefully I'm not on this Journey Alone
