“It was seventy degrees, and the sun was out. When I'd left Cleveland a few hours earlier, it had been in the upper thirties, with snow flurries spitting through a stiff wind off the lake. For the first time since I'd heard of him, I was thankful Randy Hartwick had lived in South Carolina. I drove down the town's beach strip in a rented Ford Contour with the idea of scanning the hotels until I found the Golden Breakers. After a few blocks, I realized that was a bigger task than I'd anticipated. ...The hotels seemed to go on endlessly. I drove slowly down Ocean Avenue for fifteen minutes and saw nothing but hotels, hundreds of them. Most of the hotels on the beach side of the street were tall, elegant structures, while just across the street they tended to be tacky one-or two-story buildings that were a far cry from their impressive neighbors. Only fifty yards apart, and yet the difference in quality--and, no doubt, in room rates--was amazing. After passing dozens upon dozens of hotels and resorts without locating the Golden Breakers, I gave up and pulled off Ocean Avenue in search of a gas station.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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