What Could Go Wrong

A Myrtle Beach Fourth of July

“Thump, ka-thump, thump, ka-thump…” the ceiling fan, unbalanced from time and perhaps the occasional pillow fight, swirled the moist warm air around the dark hotel room. I rolled over in the king-sized bed, the time was late, rather early, maybe 3am.

“Tracee?” I called out. “Beth?” No answer. Empty. No other humans in the room. There should have been two women and me, all three of us passed out in the bed, sleeping off the tequila shots and the photographs from the night before.

Images from Myrtle Beach, South Carolina on a July 4th in the early 1980s.

Adrenaline knocked the hangover right out of me. There were no cell phones to call, this was the early 1980s. I was freaked out - where were the women? Losing two of Charlotte’s emerging fashion models would not look good on my resume.

Twenty-four hours earlier, none of this had been planned. “Let’s go!” exclaimed both Beth and Tracee, in the same breath. We came up with a plan to shoot a few editorial “fashion” images for our portfolios. Within an hour, we were in my Volvo station wagon driving to Myrtle Beach to celebrate the Fourth of July.

Polaroids on the terrace. Tracee Johnson and Beth Abernathy were the models and co-conspirators.

Did I think this through - absolutely not! I mean, what could go wrong with three responsible adults armed with small American flags, funky sunglasses, and a bottle of tequila? The last I remember was us striking up a conversation with a few soldiers from Fort Bragg. “Hey, you wanna beer?” one of them shouted over the music. “Sure” I yelled back, “but only if you let me take your picture.” The women were raring to go. The long day and liquor were wearing on me. They said they were going to walk around for a while and we would meet back in the hotel room. I needed to be back in Charlotte by next afternoon.

Soon enough, the out-of-balance melody of the ceiling fan lulled me back to sleep, wondering - were they with the soldiers? Were they walking the beach waiting for sunrise? A million possibilities.

Shot on a Nikon with Kodak Tri-X film using a single flash on a 3 foot extension. I held the camera with my right hand and stretched the flash out to the left with my left hand.

There was a knock, the light of morning barely creeping around the tattered edges of the pulled shades. I stumbled to the door, still in my shorts and t-shirt from the night before, and opened up to my missing models. They looked like they’d had the better night. “We lost our key,” said Tracee. “Gotta pee, right now!” exclaimed Beth as they rushed past me.

The ride back to Charlotte was quiet, the women passed out, wearing their funky sunglasses, their heads rolling from side to side as I slid in and out of the passing lane.

No one owed me an explanation.

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Model credits: Tracee Johnson, Beth Abernathy