You've Been Extremely Helpful!

I will never forget parallel parking on Folly Beach.

Saturday night was the last night of my Charleston vacation. Stacy and I decided to drive to Folly Beach for dinner. If you’ve never been, it’s the last island in a cluster of islands surrounding Charleston, and locals call it the “Edge of America”. We located the restaurant on the corner of a prominent intersection.

Right next to the flashing lights of the Ambulance and the Fire Truck.

Stacy’s expression implied she thought that was a bad sign. “They don’t appear to be coming FROM our restaurant,” I observed.

The center of town was a cross between a carnival and a bike rally. The breezes blowing from the beach were fierce and the last street vendors of the day were taking advantage of them to display all manner of flashing and blinking, whizzing and whirling wind toys. Stacy found a parking spot near the restaurant and started to parallel park, but got stuck because she was used to parking her mustang and not my RAV4. I got out of the car and stood on the curb to direct her in.

While I stood there, I was mildly distracted by the conversation going on behind me. Two residents, male and female, were walking on the sidewalk behind me. Suddenly the man stopped and said, “I can’t wear these, they are too big!” His female companion stopped next to him and said, “Here, try mine.”

His slurring told me he was drunk, but I had to turn around to determine that he was referring to his flip flops. I was relieved. There were so many other things he could be taking off. The two twirled in a boozy dance as they held onto each other, coordinating the exchange of flip flops while maintaining their compromised sense of balance. They perfectly balanced the whizzing and whirling wind toys across the street.

Stacy commanded my attention from the car. “Am I close enough to the curb now?” she wondered.

“I don’t think this is the place where we need to worry about perfection. Looks good to me.”

We reached the restaurant and had our names on the waiting list before Frick and Frack arrived. Their conversation soon included us as a matter of course.

“It’s all your fault,” the man told Stacy. She apologized. “That’s how it all starts,” I said. He immediately agreed. The woman then spoke up to tell us she wasn’t speaking to him. He didn’t seem to mind.

“You know what I’m talking about,” I told him with just a little gangster bravado. I had no idea what I was talking about, but he laughed knowingly. Stacy says he only had one tooth, but I didn’t see that one, so I think it was just wishful thinking on her part. He looked like a pirate who’d lost his crew and his way.

“Ladies, you’ve been extremely helpful!” he shouted abruptly.

We watched him walk off with his female companion. They both swayed like island palms in a stiff breeze. “I hope they stop when they hit water, or they’re both going to drown,” Stacy said.

The restaurant was a hole in the wall. The food was served in plastic bowls. We ate with plastic forks. Our drinks were in plastic cups. The food was great however and we giggled most of the night. It was just one of those “you had to be there” moments.

And I’m really glad I was.

--Laura