[image-4]Nothing says solar eclipse like the slow burn of degrading retinas, right? No, really, we think our eyes are fine … regardless, we got out there and covered the solar apoc-eclipse for y’all at our favorite local haunt, Rec Room. Here’s what we heard, here’s what we saw.

[image-3]1:20 p.m.: “It’s going to be mass disappointment. If you just move your fingers like this (fast in front of face)… it works like the glasses.” — Anonymous, but helpful onlooker.

1:21 p.m.: “My boyfriend is renting his house out for $500 a night, three nights, $1,500, on Cooper Street.” — Gal who has to go to work after these PBRs.

1:25 p.m.: “At first I was like this is gonna be fun, then I was like, ‘Oh wait it’s gonna be cloudy, people are gonna be so disappointed. I have a feeling a lot of people will be going outside of downtown. Because downtown has the shortest amount of time. And I’m fine with that. Yes, please go, go on your way.” — teacher at Sundrops Montessori.
[image-7][image-5]1:35 p.m.: “This is one of the reasons I love Charleston. Anytime anything big happens the whole city shuts down. It’s like, the way of Charleston life. I moved here three years ago, so I’m not born and bred, but it’s why I love this city. It will shut down whether it’s flooding, aliens are coming into town, everyone’s just like, ‘let’s go drink.’ And it’s hilarious that it’s overcast. Honestly, it’s the biggest troll that Charleston could ever do. ‘Everyone get a million people down here, then you can’t fuckin’ see it!’ The people that keep the city afloat do the same thing every time. Let’s come together, let’s have a beer, let’s wait ’til it’s over, then go home. As far as what Charleston is doing, it’s astronomical blue balls.” — City Paper reader Chris Melton.

[image-11]1:38 p.m.:  “I moved down here last year or so, my mom is from here so I’m quasi-from Charleston. It [the eclipse] didn’t affect me so much. I rode my bike, I’m not dealing with traffic or craziness. Such an influx of people … I’m such a nerd I’m just excited that people are excited about this, this weather phenomenon.” — City Paper reader Kyle Barnes.

2:22 p.m.: “When you get into welding, they don’t initially tell you it’s as bright as the sun, but in doing it, you realize, it’s that bright. If you didn’t have the helmet you’d be blinded by the flames.” — Welders. Spotting another masked man they yell, “Hey!”
[image-13] [image-15] [image-16]2:42 p.m.: Obviously, “Total Eclipse of the Heart” plays, everyone is either singing along or chanting “Fuck the sun, fuck the sun!” Cries of “It’s nighttime!” and “Holy shit!” Green jello alien shots still being sold for $1, being slurped by amazed and, at this point, piss drunk bar patrons.

2:55 p.m.: Some people are closing up tabs, but most are hanging around. Two guys meet on the patio with their PBRs, high-five: “Dude, that was so awesome.”

So yes, there were jello shots and PBRs and alien blow-ups and headgear, and lots of laughs and songs and chants. People were pretty stoked for a three day weekend, culminating in a day-drunk party at one of Charleston’s most beloved dives. But, at the end of the total solar eclipse of 2017, people were, simply, slack-jawed, and pretty damn amazed.