but Make It Suspicious: Atlantic Bike Week Aftermath
This morning, by 8am, Facebook was on fire with posts claiming that a concert in North Myrtle Beach turned into an all-out brawl—10 people sent to the hospital, “mass casualties,” people urging folks to stay inside, lock doors, light candles, say a prayer.
Basically, Myrtle Beach was giving The Purge: Bike Week Edition.
But by noon? POOF. All gone.
News articles? “Fake News” “Unsubstantiated reports.” “No verified injuries.” “Social media misinformation.”
Local news stations? Talking about sea turtle nesting season.
City officials? Acting like it was just another sunny Sunday in the Golf Capital of The World.
Now listen—I’ve lived here long enough to know that Bike Week gets wild. It’s loud, it’s chaotic, and half of y’all come here with zero respect for locals, traffic laws, or trash bins. But let’s not pretend like there wasn’t something sketchy happening last night.
So was it fake news? Was it overblown chaos? Or just another neatly swept-under-the-rug Myrtle Beach mystery?
Who knows.
Honestly?
You can’t make this up. But someone’s definitely trying to clean it up—off the record, of course.
I don’t know what happened. Maybe nothing.
Maybe everything. I’m sure the “coverage” isn’t over.
Speaking of cleaning up, or lack thereof, let’s talk about what did show up loud and clear this morning:
TRASH.
The Myrtle Beach Mall parking lot looked like a landfill after a riot. Piles of trash, food containers, busted bottles, broken grills, and enough chicken bones to summon every neighborhood stray cat. And not just there, trash was EVERYWHERE.
In my beautiful beach town. (insert disappointed face)
You’d think, based on the crowd size, that this weekend would’ve brought a gold rush to local businesses. But let me tell you something that doesn’t make the brochure: when the dust settles, we’re left with more mess than money.
Sure, a few hotels made bank. Liquor stores? Probably cleaned up. But small businesses? Locals? We get the stress, the traffic, the clean-up, and the 72-hour headache—with none of the profit.
The money rarely trickles down to the actual locals—just the headaches.
Gold hoops on, BS detector activated.
Stay safe, stay skeptical, and as always—don’t believe everything you read.
Unless it’s from me, obviously.
—Still tired, still sarcastic,
The Gold Hoop Diaries