Boathouse Has “It”
By Lauren Poster
On a recent visit to the Backyard Summer Concert Series, I had the privilege of enjoying Drivin N Cryin, rock veterans who are just the latest to appear in a summerlong jam fest hosted weekly by The Boathouse Waterway Bar & Grill. The Summer Series has become a tradition at this locals' spot for some years now. Homegrown acts, as well as surprisingly well-known talent, grace the outdoor stage overlooking the Intracoastal Waterway every Sunday afternoon from June to September - drawing mad, unpredictable crowds akin to those seen at a bull run. The event, hosted by the Weekly Surge and Red Stripe beer, is free for anyone who can squeeze into what would be a total fire hazard if not for the rambling backyard, which opens onto several tiki-style bars, a volleyball court and a spacious dock for boats.
Some other bands to perform at the Series this summer have been Tru Sol, steadily gaining in popularity along the Strand, as well as Pacifier and E. Brice. We can also look forward to Jupiter Coyote, Superglide and the 5th annual Jerryfest, which features tributes to the late great Mr. Garcia. No lazy-paced Lowcountry bar would be complete without a compulsory nod to reggae and jam music, and while neither of these are personal favorites of the writer, they are huge draws for the college scene. But that's just the thing: the Summer Concert Series doesn't just cater to post-hormonal, fun-loving Coastal attendees. You'll find anyone from your grandmother to the neighborhood dog catcher at The Boathouse. The only requirement is that you have to (a.) like to drink beer, or (b.) not mind being around people who like to drink beer. Anyone got a problem with that? Didn't think so.
The first thing noticeable as you arrive at The Boathouse on a Sunday is the sheer moist body heat of skin-baring, shaven-chested youths, seemingly straight out of a Bod Man Fragrances commercial. Their counterparts, littering the bar with good-natured conversation and body jewelry, are bikini-clad and pretty much exclusively beautiful. One wonders if the people lining the entryway are not paid actors made to look like they're having more fun than a jock at a high school reunion. This is not the case. They really are having that much fun. Whether that is due to libations, friendship, youth, or the beautiful 100-percent wood paneling of the bar is still up for grabs.
The going advice, however, is to bypass all of this and head straight for the outdoors, where dandelion seeds blow and silverfish hotties splash in the iced tea-colored water - and where beers are much easier to procure.
Get used to the constant flow of humans as the procession forms just off the covered deck, moving toward that great and pulsating "it" that seems to shift and change like the colors in an oil puddle. The hardest thing to grasp is that there is no real destination here. Getting near the band could be the goal, but it's not likely. There's too much to see and too many easy smiles and handshakes to catch. Everybody knows everybody. You can't have no friends at this event. Existing is a reason to get offered a beer. But don't expect to get cozy for even a minute, unless you want to become a piece of patio furniture.
Hanging out by the volleyball court, I find Tal Dahabani, local DJ, who talks about his Monday Mayhem event at the Afterdeck. In between questions about whether the soap used in the party foam will be hypoallergenic, I get distracted by a bikini body heading straight for my forehead. This wraithlike beauty turns out to be "that girl," whom I have seen at every social event since spring. Resembling Rosanna Arquette in her heyday, she is a near-goddess despite the way she unceremoniously spills her daiquiri on my coif (Did I mention that you'll get dirty?). It's at times like this that I question my decision to wear pleated businesswear shorts to a place where everyone else looks like prime time soap opera stars.
Don't mistake that to mean you have to dress up. There is a lazy luxury about The Boathouse - the luxury to wear clothes from the third layer of your hamper and still feel smoking hot ... the luxury to bring along your ill-behaved dog ... the luxury to seriously just not care. It's the casual disarray so beloved, so ingrained into the American aesthetic that it comes through in Abercrombie ads and rom-coms alike.
Frank Gutierrez, bona fide area "cool person," introduces me to some of his friends. Among them are Coe Wilson (hasty correction: "that's Coe Armstrong Wilson"), a recent Coastal graduate with stout Scottish origins who talks to me about his love for The Boathouse. Coe notes that all the concerts have been awesome this summer, most notably the performance given by Pacifier, a modern reggae group. He expected something akin to Slightly Stoopid, but was surprised by the refreshing level of talent. Obviously, Coe actually listens to the music. In the background Frank insists that he'll be here every Sunday from now until the chill hits the air, but it's not for the music.
Another charming attendee is the more reserved Renee Napoli, a recent transplant from Ohio. I ask Renee that most daunting of questions: why does everyone from Ohio move to Myrtle Beach? I make no attempt to apologize for the stereotype, too keen on unearthing the truth behind this mystery. She informs me that in the world of Ohio, people think that Myrtle Beach is the "beach to come to!" It's family oriented, but you can still have a great time. No big partyer, Renee shies away from the Kryptonite scene in favor of more low-key bars, like the newly opened Boca in Surfside. She likes to just lay back and talk with friends. Behind the nubile beauty of Renee, two old ladies clap and clap and clap to Drivin N Cryin's signature song. What a rocking day this has turned out to be.
Myrtle Beach bigwigs show off their watercrafts at the shore (my two favorites are one called Bada Bing! and a mismatched RV on water). A candy-apple red Mariah speedboat drifts, all too ready to szhoom into the distance as soon as the scene gets uncool. Young folks kiss and hold hands on the poop deck. In a shady grotto, Liz (right) and Carlie lounge on a hammock. I ask them if they've been invited onto a boat today. Carlie laughs, "We're not trying to get into trouble on a boat today." Well, whether you want to get into trouble or not, The Boathouse is a great place to do it every Sunday. Cheers.
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