Tybee Market

IGA ... pronounced as a single word as it sounds ...used to be the Tybee Market and is the islands only grocery store. After the original Tybee Market burned down, it became an IGA ... a member of the Independent Grocery Alliance ... now we just call it IGA ... pronounced "iga". It's got most everything a normal IGA ... has except parking. It does have fresh shrimp though ... and the steaks are really good and fresh ... and the frozen French Fries are usually frozen ... and if you're looking for things that your Mom used to make but Publix or Kroger doesn't sell the ingrediants anymore, then Tybee Market likely has them ... you just have to look. Most days they also have bags of ice. Mike Hosti, the owner, is an island character, very benevolent and serves as the island's "Food Bank." I think he should be granted "Non-Profit" and "Tax-Exempt" Status for these efforts but he will be the first to ask, "What profit?" I'm a regular customer either riding my bike or driving the car six blocks to IGA. Sarah and I did that last night ... at 6:00 P.M. ... which is stupid ... because Saturday is check in/check out day on the island ... and I mean that in so many different ways. Everybody renting a place for a week checks out Saturday morning and everyone checking in arrives around 4:00. After dropping off their shit in the rental unit, they go to Tybee Market ... which happened to be at the same time Sarah and I strolled inside. Have you ever seen the footage of the crash of the Hindenburgh? Shopping at Tybee Market is like standing under it as it comes down in flames. "Oh the humanity!" To his credit, Mike has tried to fix the parking and the number of spaces actually doubled but ... there is no longer a clearly marked "IN" and a clearly marked "EXIT" ... like at THE BREAKFAST CLUB ... so it's mostly a traffic jam. For locals ... there's a back gate which you're never supposed to exit but we do all of the time ... Don't tell Mike. So we fought through the immpossible crowds of tourisst checking in, buying groceries and then we stood in the check out line. Now aside from Nancy ... each and every cashier at IGA lives in an alternative universe. They have no sense of time ... or change. An hour later, Sarah and I arrived home with our purchases ... a can of Cambell's soup and a chicken pot pie. They were out of everything else. But we feasted on our meal, holding hands and washing them down with drinks without ice. I love island life! Shit! I'm out of Orange Juice!