Sunday: Mytle Beach is the Worst

Goal number one: see the Biltmore Estate, fail.  Apparently, tickets are required to so much as see the building.  Our college pocketbooks decided that it was not worth the price.  We then began the drive with a very road-worn group of ladies, but the fearless Kim and Mary powered through to lunch.
In need of a break from fried food, we decided Subway should be today's stop.  A friendly man, who got in line after us, told us about how horrible and tacky Myrtle Beach is.  But really, tacky is exactly what we were looking for.
After another 3 hours of driving, we made it to our final destination. And it was good. On the way to our specific villa, the boy crazy Ashley and Karen saw their first glimpse of male shirtlessness in Myrtle Beach. Needless to say, they were increadibly excited and exclaimed a little too loudly.

Hungry for some healthy food, we headed to the nearby Walmart  and bought some tasty groceries.  Chicken, good. Salad, good. Meal, success.
We had yet to see the beach/the ocean.  With a quickness in our step, we made our way across the green grass and the paved sidewalks to the soft sand.
Upon arrival, we threw our shoes and ran to the ocean.  Mary, an ocean newcomer, was the first one to put her feet in the water.  Though it was still cold from the fading winter, we were in love.  The ocean would soon become an honorary member of our group.