My father was born in Greenwood, SC as were his 3 older brothers. In fact, my ancestors all the way back into the 1700's lived in Greenwood County and its environs. There are East and West Durst streets in Greenwood. I like to say that "W. Durst Street" was named for me, although my cousin William would differ. My parents are buried in Greenwood, and I hope to be next to them one day. We have a legacy in Greenwood. At one time, much of the downtown area was owned by my family or had a hand in it. My great-grandfather started the Bank of Greenwood. He also had a hand in starting the Connie Maxwell Children's Home and the Greenwood Mill. My grandfather had the first car dealership in Greenwood. My uncle started The Museum in Greenwood (that's what it is called). So, to say that Greenwood would not have existed, if it weren't for the Durst family, would be correct.
When I saw an advertisement for an antique show at the mall in Greenwood, I knew I had to participate in it. It was four days, so I had to take vacation time to go. The lady running the show had an antique store in Greenwood County, and of course she knew my last name was prominent in the county.
I got to Greenwood the day before the show and had a reservation at the Holiday Inn across from the mall. When any of our family would come to Greenwood, we would stay at this motel. It was a place to go for birthday and anniversary parties in my family. When I got there to check in, a young girl was at the front desk. She said the imprinter for the credit card wasn't working, and she would have to write down my credit card number. I wasn't too pleased about that, but I figured she knew what she was doing.
The next day, I set up my stuff in the mall for the show. I had brought some records, videotapes, memorabilia, and a few autographs. The only restaurant in the mall was Chick-Fil-A, and my tables were right across from it. Over the four days, I ate everything on the menu three times. The smell got in my clothes and hair. It took me quite a while to go back to eating at Chick-Fil-A anywhere after that.
The show was quite successful. I sold a lot of stuff, even though the organizer didn't like me selling the videotapes. After all, they weren't exactly legal. I did have an older couple approach me and said they had some records to sell. They asked if I could come outside and look in their trunk at the records. I agreed to, because you never know what gems people might have. Most of their records were by Elvis. I saw a few that really were worth something. I bought ten for $50. Those ten were actually worth more like $1000. So, here is a tip for those folks who want to buy records from other people: never give them what they are worth. Never let on that they have some rare stuff. The couple happily took the $50. And, a tip for those folks who want to sell records: don't expect you are going to be able to retire by selling your records. You won't.
When Saturday's show was over for the night, I went across the street back to the motel for some much-needed rest. I found that my key wouldn't open the door to my room. I went to the front desk to ask why, and they told me because my credit card was declined. How could that be? I had plenty of money on it, and no one from the motel had said anything. They told me that they had tried to call me several times. I told them that I had been across the street at the antique show. As it turned out, the message light on the phone in my room didn't work. I asked to see the card number that the girl had written down, and I found she was one number off. After clearing all that up, they reopened my door. I was so mad that I couldn't sleep. I got up very early and checked out of the motel. When I went to the front desk, I told the manager that my family helped start Greenwood, and I knew a lot of influential people in Greenwood including the Dorn family. The manager didn't apologize for his daughter's mistake nor the suffering I experienced. I drove around the area trying to get over my anger, because the last show didn't start until that afternoon.
After the antique show was over, I loaded everything into my car and drove home. On the way home, I got behind a pickup truck that was weaving all over the highway, so I couldn't pass it. A few minutes later, I saw a girl's head come up from the boy's lap. I just had to laugh. With everything that had gone on with me over the past 24 hours, it was just funny. When I got home, I wrote two scathing letters. One to the Better Business Bureau of Greenwood complaining about the motel, and one to the corporate offices of Holiday Inn. The BBB wrote back to me, and they said that there were a lot of complaints about that motel. They said it used to be the nicest place to stay in Greenwood, but it had gone down in quality. I never heard back from the corporate offices. I kind of expected an apology letter with maybe a partial refund, but no! It turned out that the motel eventually closed. It was torn down and made into a storage facility. Good riddance.
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