We woke up with the goal to get out of Daytona (since we only rented the house for four days) and get back on the road again and try to make it all the way to Myrtle Beach (another supposed eastern party spot; these guys are going to kill me!) in South Carolina. It was ten hours of humid driving starting with more Go-Kart racing then onward through Savanna, Georgia (beautiful little town) for lunch, a stop at the fireworks warehouse to stock up, and most of South Carolina before we came into what looked like the lights of Vegas without any gambling and dozens (seriously) of miniature golf courses and swimsuit shops.
Coming out of the third overpriced or full Holiday Inn we headed to the Sea Gypsy, probably the dirtiest hotel in the entire area, but the owner was a sweet older man who told us about all the nighttime hot spots in the area. We took showers and got dressed to go out for the night in this new town, knowing we only had one night and should make the most of it. A few drinks in the room to hold the price down and we headed off to a bar, followed by a piano club, then just a regular club before Ryan drove us back to our hotel to go shoot off some fireworks at the beach.
Alcohol + Fireworks = Goodtimes + Danger (I might be able to complete with the great mathematicians with this formula.)
Somehow we managed to side off in two teams and started fireworking each other with and assortment of bottle rockets, black cats, and smokebombs. The fun only lasted a few minutes until someone came around and let us know that fireworks are extremely illegal in Myrtle beach and we should probably stop. The city officials must know about my formula already and are scared of the Goodtimes.