There is a reason only one thing has ever been recounted in my presence that referred to driving through South Carolina. This is not something one wants to remember. I have officially deemed their highways worse than that of Texas – the worst I thought possible. Today’s journey crossed some of the worst patches of pavement around: Baby Burp Bridge, Keep Answering Yes Avenue, Shake and Bake Street, The Jackson Pollack Expressway, Tumble Thruway and Bobble-Head Drive.
Still, that one thing may counter all the annoyance one must endure. We weren’t there more than 10 minutes, but South of the Border is so visual as to make it plenty. Anyone who hasn’t been there: imagine the most kitchy tourist trap on the planet. Then, envision it being a place with owners who promote and design it to reflect exactly what it is. Giant plaster animals everywhere, a shop actually called “El Drug Store,” a mini-theme park with purposely boring rides.
Kind of takes the sting off this sketchy hotel with the partying local construction crews inhabiting every other room. Note to seekers of lodging: look elsewhere if the nearby fare includes an abandoned gas station and three empty lots full of trash.
Still happy. We’ll be there tomorrow.