Sarah and I danced on the stage oblivious to most everyone else. Stars twinkled above the ocean, an almost full moon slowly rolled across the black night and children played with glow sticks of every color on the beach. The band was rocking, playing Beach Music and friends darted in and out of our personal space. We enjoyed them but we mostly enjoyed each other, copping occasional feels and sharing sensual smiles.
Our bicycles were somewhere on Tybrisa Street, probably getting drunk listening to the Samuel Adams Band, who play really damn good live music on Tybee Island. Later we'll go collect them and get them home.
I hoped and prayed that they hadn't hooked up with Whitley Reynolds' bike because that is one drunk ass bicycle and it often leads others astray!
We were surrounded by Pirates, drinking Grog and most everything else imaginable. Buxom wenches busting out of their clothes, obviously proud of enhancement surgery wandered around with attorneys and account executives dressed as swashbucklers.
Everyone was enjoying debauchery .... except for Erica Backus who was working her ass off. Then again, she is incredible.
No one cared though.
We were really into debauchery!
Tybee does debauchery very well.
I think per capita, we have more on this island than anywhere else in the world. I'll have to ask Joanie Woodcock if this is true.
The fact of the matter is that it was a perfect night on the island. Waves gently kissed the shore. People smiled. Music ascending to heaven. God rained beauty in the stars. Laughter erupted and dolphins smiled.
And Sarah and I just danced.
