I'm not into this "tourist stuff" ... actually I'm pretty snobby about it.
Always dressing like a local ... black running shorts, old tee shirt and flip-flops if shoes are necessary ... I am not anti-Tourists ... I am just anti-looking-like-one.
Come to think of it ... I'm pretty anti-looking-local too.
I watch the sheer joy on his face ... a 60 year old man becomes 8 ... as his 8 and 10 year old granddaughters suddenly relate ... feeding Alligators at an overpriced "Tourists Trap" on Tybee Island.
I remember when it was a ... shack!
A wooden structure with beer on a porch sat beside the boat hoist.
If Paddy wasn't there ... you strolled inside to get your own beer ... and pay later.
Of course Paddy was mostly drunk so it was "The Honor System" back then.
Now it is a mecca for tourists because of incredible views and ambiance ... constant Jimmy Buffett music ... and Alligators.
The beer's cold and the food's "so-so."
Sarah and the others arrive and we sit under massive oaks decorated in white lights ... we have a killer waitress ... talk and eat as families do ... check out the tee shirt shop and the exotic birds after dinner ... before he and his granddaughters rush to feed the Gators again.
Meandering to the now closed boat hoist I stare at the marsh and the Lazaretto ... recollecting what it was ... comparing it to now.
Old friends ... now dead ... dance across the water ... from the days when it was "Criminal Creek" ... folks on an island with a fishing addiction who loved beer.
It's not that way anymore.
You must have a license or a permit for most anything and W.I.L.L. be arrested if you don't.
Turning ... I make my way to Sarah and her Dad ... and the girls ... and we feed the Alligators ... and delightfully laugh in wonderment ... at the joys they're leaving behind.
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