Caroline in Paris

Did you know that the State of South Carolina has an official dance? Yep. It’s called shagging.

Seriously.

Apparently it’s related to swing dancing, and involves special shoes. And there are these people who do it obsessively, and flock to North Myrtle Beach (the shagging Mecca) twice a year to celebrate their…shagginess? Or something.

They spill out into the streets from porch bars, have not one but two walks of fame (I’m not clear on why two are necessary, but look for yourself), and every business within stumbling distance posts welcome signs and shagging-themed souvenirs.

Did I mention that we arrived just in time for the shaggers’ “fall migration”? Yeah; we apparently landed on Fun Sunday, crawled into bed, and woke up on Fun Monday. And the place certainly was set up for fun:

My in-laws got mixed up with a bunch of celebrators who call themselves the Porch People (there’re tee-shirts), but whose air-banding and karaoke kept spilling out onto the street. How shady could they be, though? After all, the mayor was one of them.

“The mayor of Myrtle Beach?” my mother-in-law asked, impressed.

“No! The mayor of the Porch People!” her informant grinned, following that nugget up with “And I’m the Princess of the Porch People,” an announcement which, I hear, involved miming placing a crown on her own head.

These people are hard-core.

Sadly, though, our foray into Greater Americana has come to an end. We staggered off the plane yesterday morning, and have yet to see a single shagger since; it’s entirely possible that we never will again.

That said, check out what I came home to:

That’s right: the Jalouse Orchid has flowered. And it’s incredible.