Around 5:30 PM, we arrived at our destination. We got off near a tiny bus station and realized we hadn't really taken care of our upcoming accommodation. We remembered that back in Russia, we had been messaging a certain Alex who offered housing and potential work. I called him from a payphone, and from our brief conversation, I realized he had completely forgotten about us. Nevertheless, he said he would come and we would sort everything out. While waiting for Alex, a tall young man of about 30, with a Greek appearance, wearing glasses and holding a cigarette, approached us. He introduced himself as Victor, a taxi driver, and offered his services to take us to North Myrtle Beach. We declined, saying we already had a place to stay. He still wrote his contact details in my notebook, which later proved as useful as water in the desert. Alex turned out to be a typical Russian gopnik in a white Toyota with a stuttering friend. He offered us a place to stay in his house, which he rents out to Russian students every summer. We would have agreed to anything back then. After paying 20 bucks each, we were in our apartment. It was undergoing renovations, and apart from the bedroom and bathroom, it could hardly be called a living space. We rested a bit and were horrified by my feet: in their place were ugly leather pads with small, swollen toes. Everyone washed up, scrubbing off a week's worth of dirt from our exhausted bodies.

Kirill and I were eager to see the ocean, so we hurried away. Sasha decided to stay in the room for a proper rest. It had gotten dark outside, but we walked confidently in the right direction, drawn by the mighty element. Black bikers were racing through the streets with a heartbreaking roar. There were too many of them, and we realized it wasn't for nothing. Later it turned out to be the annual Black Bike Week. With every step, the cherished sound of crashing waves grew louder. The black, endless, deafening living matter was heaving, breathing, and speaking to the night sky in a language of eternity known only to them, not noticing the tiny, worthless human-bugs strolling along the shore. Only for a moment did they notice the inseparable pair of new, young, enthusiastic hearts who didn't know where to hide from the happiness that had overwhelmed them to the point of suffocation. The water turned out to be warm, and it was hard to resist jumping in to splash around, but for some reason, we hurried to call our parents to inform them of the good news of our arrival. It was difficult to talk because, due to the roar of the motorcycles, almost nothing could be heard. We returned to the house and fell into a deep sleep. The next day, we had a particularly important mission: to go to the town of Conway to apply for a Social Security Number—a necessary and one of the most important documents in the States, without which it is impossible to get a job.

On May 22nd, we got up around eight in the morning and started getting ready. We needed to buy a battery for Kirill's PDA, as it was constantly running out of charge. We didn't have keys to the house, and our apartment didn't lock at all, so I put all our documents and valuables in a bag and took them with me. On the advice of a neighbor living in the house, we headed to Walgreens—a place where you can buy anything you need. Despite the early morning, it was already hot, and it felt a bit strange after the cold Russian weather. Naturally, Walgreens didn't have what we needed, so we headed back. Since the road was long, consisting of numerous turns and alleys, we decided to take a shortcut. Understandably, we soon got lost. We were walking along a narrow street when an unkempt man standing in the yard of his nondescript house spoke to us. It turned out he wanted a dollar from each of us for "food." Without thinking twice, we told him we were poor students and had no money at all, and that was that. About half an hour later, we reached our house and soon called Victor from the nearest payphone. He promised to pick us up in a while and take us to Conway. There was no reason to sit in the house, so we hung out in the yard in the sun. We chatted with a neighbor who talked for a long time about some Russian girls who lived here a year ago. She obviously thought we would stay here too. But we had other plans. In about a week, Kirill's old friends Maxim and Sasha (later Phil (or Max) and Vegas) and Sasha's girlfriend Lida were supposed to arrive. And they were supposed to arrive in North Myrtle Beach, so we weren't planning on staying in Myrtle Beach for long. Soon Victor arrived, and we set off to apply for Social Security Numbers. Victor's car was clearly not designed for small-scale transport, but, as they say, for wholesale. It could fit 10 Russian and not only Russian students at once. Victor himself turned out to be a former Belarusian student who had once stayed here, married fictitiously, and made a living every summer off people like he once was. Beside him was always his faithful companion—a laptop stuffed to the brim with old and new Russian and Soviet music videos and songs, which he gladly showed to his new clients. This disappointed us slightly, as we had come to take a break from all the hideous Russian pop music, and even here there was no escaping it. And, looking ahead, I will be honest: even before our departure 4 months later, we didn't want to hear any Russian music.

Conway turned out to be a small, bright town located on the opposite side from the ocean. We arrived at our destination and went inside the building. It looked a bit like a bank. There were 3 windows where people approached in turn and talked to the employees of this institution, providing their documents necessary to receive the coveted paper. First of all, we had to get our sequence number in the queue, indicating in the machine, like a payment slip, which type of applicant you belong to. While waiting for our turn, we had to fill out a form indicating our location, where the SSN would later be mailed. Victor "generously" allowed us to use his address, as he would bring us the numbers anyway, no matter which Myrtle we were in. If we had waited at least a day to go to Conway, we would have each had our own numbers later. I am 100% sure of that now. But... we wanted everything as quickly as possible, to start working and get American money. We quickly went through the queue, talked to the officials, and started our way back. On the way, we stopped at some electronics store in the hope of finding a battery for the PDA, but failed again. Soon we picked up another trio of cheerful Russian students who were already so homesick that they were competing to order musical hits from the 80s and 90s from Victor, cheerfully and patriotically singing along to VIA Gra, Pugacheva, and the like. And so, as they say, with songs and dances, we reached home. It was assumed that at 5 o'clock we would call Victor for our move to NMB. But for now, we desperately needed to settle our housing affairs: look for suitable housing on the internet. For this, we went to the library, where every person can use internet resources for free for a strictly set time interval of 15 minutes. I confess honestly: this day was so full of events that even a young and normally functioning brain was unable to accommodate such a huge and unusual flow of information. In general, for some reason, I don't remember the strict sequence of all our actions and events. We set off there on foot along the closest to the ocean and most beautiful (as well as longest) street, Ocean Boulevard, staring around with our mouths open. On the way, we couldn't resist and walked along the shore of the joyful and warm ocean. Our feet rejoiced at the heavenly sensations from the velvet sand and the gentle water... So, having reached the library, we suddenly felt an acute need to eat something, as we hadn't consumed absolutely anything since yesterday. Near the library, various men without a specific occupation were hanging around; they were located under a huge and mighty tree in the shade. The tree very much resembled an oak, but it was not one. Near the men stood a stately policeman in shorts, expressing with his whole appearance a readiness to help anyone in need. We greeted the strange company and asked how to get to the nearest grocery store. The friendly men explained in a jumble that we just needed to turn the corner and go straight. Which we did, thanking them for their help. We walked past a small cozy square with large wooden gazebos of an oblong shape and found ourselves at a small store, Piggly Wiggly. We bought the long-desired fresh donuts and a gallon of fresh ice-cold orange juice there. In the library, we each took sequence numbers, allowing us to sit on the internet for 15 minutes. First, we needed to solve the housing issue, which we tried to do for half an hour. After sending letters and questions where necessary, we realized that the salvation of the drowning is the work of the drowning themselves. The rest of the time, I somehow wrote a short letter to my mom on an English keyboard.

We decided to take a shortcut back, as time was running out and we still had to pack. We walked across some open, deserted lot with small weeds, apparently intended for construction. We scurried quickly and discussed on the go that Alex shouldn't be seen at all, and especially shouldn't be told that Victor was picking us up. It was implied that they knew each other and didn't have the best opinion of one another. Besides, we didn't like Alex from the first glance, as he had a pronounced gopnik appearance. To be honest, I didn't care about the relationships of these cosmopolitans; I only dreamed of cozy apartments with a huge bed, a bathroom, walls, a front door, a roof... in short, I wanted long-awaited peace and tranquility. At 5:20 PM, Victor was already there, and we started loading up. Perhaps we should mention our luggage, as these were the last minutes-hours of its stay in its original state. Yes, and besides, in some 4 months, it would look completely different... So we had: me: a small shoulder bag for documents and essentials and a backpack; Kirill: a backpack and a wheeled sports bag; Sasha: a backpack and a small wheeled bag. And so, we are leaving Myrtle Beach. On the way, the question of housing is being decided. Having come up with nothing, Victor takes us to some dubious motel, since we have to spend the night somewhere... Staying there cost about $80 per person, and we dropped that idea. Then Victor decided to drive us along the street where Russian students lived a year ago, perhaps someone is renting out housing. We drove smoothly along a quiet green street past wonderful two-story houses. On the left, by a rather large house, someone's backside was visible, the owner of which turned out to be some grandmother rummaging in her flower garden. Victor stopped and remembered that a year ago this very granny was renting out apartments to Russian students. He got out of the car and headed towards her. They discussed something for quite a long time, and after a while, he called us. The granny turned out to be short, or rather, very short, however, with curvy forms, about 65 years old; in glasses, with short curly hair styled in a very elegant hairstyle, in light breeches and flip-flops. It turned out that she was indeed planning to rent out her apartments (and she had, looking ahead, a decent amount of them: two two-story houses 1.5 meters from each other, in one, which is by the road, there are 4 apartments, and in the other, located right behind it, in the depths of the yard, there are 2 apartments on the second floor. The grandmother herself lived on the first). But for now, they were not ready at all, and she could not accept us. We began to assure her that we were ready to move in right now and clean and wash the apartment ourselves. The granny, after hesitating a little, agreed and led us to choose an apartment. Inside each apartment, it was unusually cozy, a little rustic, all walls and ceilings were wooden, paneled with orange slats and boards. The last one was a two-room (and there were also three-room) apartment in the second house in the depths of the yard, with a huge kitchen-living room at the entrance, two charming rooms, one of which had an air conditioner, and a wonderful bathroom... all three of us immediately fell in love with this dwelling, and we announced that we would live here. The granny again started talking about inconveniences, lack of readiness, and the uncleaned state of the dwelling, but we made it clear that we would clean it ourselves. She hesitated for some reason, but still agreed, on the condition that we pay for a month in advance immediately. A month of this pleasure cost 750 USD. 250 from each. We didn't have the required amount with us, and we went to the nearest ATM. Fortunately, before leaving, I made a multi-currency Visa card and put about $900 on it. I withdrew $500 for Kirill and me. Sasha had $300 with her. In short, we returned, let go of the saintly Victor (the saint received over $100 from us that day for the ride). We paid the granny and wrote our full names in her arrival log and signed. The granny signed the date below and handed us two keys: one with a purple keychain (Sasha's) and the other with a pink one (ours), said there were no more, and we needed to make a duplicate. But we never needed it... It was May 22nd. The longest day was coming to an end...

We joyfully began moving in. Sasha settled in a small room with an AC, we were in a larger room, but without an AC. We were unpacking the already tiresome bags and backpacks, laying out the few clothes and modest utensils from home. However, the granny's apartments were equipped, though not luxuriously, but they had absolutely everything that could be needed in everyday life. Interacting with each other and solving various household issues, a small four-month family is formed... Having more or less finished, we swept and washed the not-so-dirty floor and wiped off the dust. Now we needed to get some food. Without thinking long, we headed to the Highway to a small store "Circle K" at a gas station. There was, of course, no great variety of food there, that's why it's a roadside store. We decided to take eggs, bacon, milk, and bread.

Having had a tasty and satisfying dinner, we head to bed, as from the very early morning tomorrow we are going in search of work. The longest day is slowly fading into the past, and we are no longer concerned with it...