And let's be honest... there's nothing worse than shitty pizza. You'd be surprised at how sometimes it takes shitty pizza to show you the bright side of life.
Hubby and I took an impromptu trip to the beach this weekend. Let me start by saying we're broke. I was recently involved a bad car accident (not my fault, by the way). I was injured from it, so I'm all gimpy and pitiful. The other insurance company has been less than reasonable. And hubby generally isn't a "fly by the seat of his pants" kinda guy. But we needed a break from all the insanity around us and a golden opportunity presented itself. So we said fuck it... We packed up some food, took enough money for gas, and away we went.
We cooked and cooked and cooked while we were there and then decided to be bad and splurge on a pizza with the little cash we had.
Now this is Myrtle Beach, SC. There are a thousand and one pizza places, all of which claim to be "authentic N.Y. style pizza".... in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina.
So we ventured out to the main strip on Ocean Blvd. in our hunt for a romantic, yet trashy, Myrtle Beach pizza date. On our secondary hunt for a parking spot we happened to score a space directly in front of an "authentic" N.Y. style pizza place.... in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina.
We ventured inside to find one customer, a bag lady (literally a bag lady - she had three giant garbage bags, filled with Lord knows what, piled next to her on the seat), and no one at the register. We waited for a bit and when no one came out to take our order we proceeded to leave.
"They're back there." bag lady informed us.
We smiled, thanked her, and walked out.
The next place we tried also touted "authentic" N.Y. style pizza.... in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina. It appeared to be jammin' with plenty of customers inside. It even smelled pretty good. So in we went.
We sat down at a table that had a greasy plastic table cloth duct-taped to it. So we moved to another table. This table had duct-tape hanging off the underside of said table, complete with old bits of food stuck to it. But damn it, we wanted pizza. So we overlooked that small, nasty detail.
When the waitress came over to take our order she asked if I wanted a large or small sweet tea. "What does that even mean??" I asked her, utterly confused. Apparently they don't offer free refills. This is the south y'all.... Even if you're serving pretend "authentic" N.Y. style pizza in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina you damn well best have free refills on the sweet tea.
So I did what any respectable southern gal would do after encountering such a travesty as duct-tape encrusted tables and single serve sweet tea offerings.... I left...
and headed toward the third, and final, my hubby informed me, pizza place.
This establishment also boasted "authentic" N.Y. style pizza... in, yes, you got it, Myrtle Beach, South Carolina. Only this place appeared to be run by the former employees of an Anderson County meth lab, (no offense to Anderson County).
We sat down at yet another greasy table as my husband informed me that we were not, in fact, going anywhere fucking else... regardless.
So I put a smile on my face and ordered my sweet tea... to which I was informed came out of a soda fountain, and was not fresh brewed, and did not have free refills. I opted for a can of gingerale from the free-standing cooler in the corner instead.
"Is there a restroom?" my husband asked our waitress. He had had to tinkle since the first restaurant.
"No, we ain't got one. But there's a sink over there you can wash yer hands in or there's a public bathroom in the alleyway two doors down." our waitress told him.
It was my turn to smile. "We're not going any place else." I told hubby sweetly.
So he sucked it up and we ordered our pizza: 2 slices of plain cheese for him, 1 slice of mushroom & beef for me.
I was surprised at first at how quickly our food appeared after ordering! Until I saw it...
Frozen pizza that had been nuked. It was topped with - (and by "topped with" I mean they literally dumped a scoop of) - canned mushrooms and what can only be described as "beef pellets."
At this point we did the only thing we could do.
And we talked and we laughed some more. We had a great time just being together, eating our shitty pizza in that shitty hell-hole, surrounded by skeleton-faced tweakers.
After forcing down the horrible gas-station-esque "authentic N.Y. style pizza" from Myrtle Beach, South Carolina we went to the register to pay.... where they overcharged us by 5 bucks.
After a brief trip to the public restrooms, (where we were pretty sure we should have used body condoms), we held presumably STD covered hands all the way back to the car. (Yes we washed our hands, but it was grossgusting).
Once we were safely back in the car, and out of earshot of the normal world, I started to let out a string of profanities. My husband just laughed.
"What's so funny?" I asked him.
"That was one of the best dates ever." he told me with a genuine smile.
"Why in the world do you say that?" I asked.
"Because if it had been great pizza at the first place we wouldn't even remember it a week from now. But now, for years to come, we will remember this shitty experience and look back on it and have a laugh. That's totally worth it to me."
Damn that man and his wisdom... he's completely right. There's always a bright side. Even in the worst of times.
We're going through some heavy shit right now with my wreck, the injuries it caused, my car being totaled, and the money we don't have for a new car... But maybe one day this will be just an experience I'll look back on and laugh at. Maybe something positive will come of it. Or maybe not. Who knows. But I'm going to concentrate on the bright side...
....and finding a decent slice of pizza. After that debacle I'm determined to find a decent damn slice of pizza! But of course I'll always remember, with a smile, that most memorable of Myrtle Beach pizza dates every single time I tuck into a slice. :)