Stuffed Crab...

I have been going to Savannah since I was in highschool. There is just something about its god awful coastal smell that is intoxicating to me. Regardless of where we are staying, the first thing I have to do is ride down Bay street, then take the Islands expressway to hwy 80 then head out to Tybee island... When I get to the corner of Islands & 80 I always let the window down. The weather doesn't matter, one hundred twenty degrees or forty degrees.. it makes no difference. I have to let that salt marsh stench wash over me in the car. In some strange way it always feels like coming home.

Many trips have been made to that magical place over the years. I fell in love with its voodoo and humid sensuality when I was a young man. I love the beach, yet I'm not a traditional beach bum type of person. I hate heat and humidity. I spend my beach time walking in the water starting around midnight and then end it each morning by watching the sunrise from the end of the pier on Tybee island.

I can not be trusted to actually get on the water with any sort of flotation device. One night, while staying at the ocean plaza, I "borrowed" one of the big canvas floats from the lifeguard station, paddled out and laid back to enjoy the view of the stars... I woke up a while later with a tiny strip of lights off in the distance. Hoping it was in fact the shore line, I began heading in that direction. That's when you get the fear... Every image from jaws & movies of that ilk begins to become amazingly clear and possible in your mind and you know damn well that there is some sort of huge whale, shark, harpy thing right on your ass, making your paddling become more desperate with each passing second... I made it back to shore with no problems, but passed a buoy on the way in... Yes, I had drifted into the shipping lanes... But.. if you have never seen the stars that far out on the ocean at night.. I must say, it was well worth the danger. I was scolded pretty harshly on another trip by a few lifeguards for riding rip tides all day... I can't help it.. when they are strong enough they can carry you way out, but they always bring you right back to shore, you just never know where... But a ride like that is well worth a bit of a walk when you're done.

I've never really had a favorite place to eat there, I pretty much like them all. The crab shack is one of my favorites... The bar at Williams Seafood was another. They were famous for stuffed crab. I always had mixed emotions about eating there, the interior left a bit to be desired, it had a middle school cafeteria feel to it, and there was always a line to get in, I am not a line person. We had taken a trip down several years ago and I was really wanting some good seafood so decided to deal with the line. There was a church youth group ahead of us... The noseeums were out in force, to the point of drawing blood... and screaming babies were well represented.. While standing in line for about an hour, beeper in hand, desperately waiting for the thing to go off and scratching continuously at the noseeums while being serenaded by the youth group (one of them had gone back to their bus for a guitar) I had had enough. I went in to check on seating and the girl said, "About 45 minutes... but if you don't mind you can sit in the bar..." I started screaming at her, "Mind? You crazy teenage bitch! I have been standing in 98 degree, 100% humidity, bug filled air listening to horrible singing and bleeding from bug bites while treated to a toddler constantly pelting me with a balloon sword for the last hour!!! SEAT ME NOW!!!!" but it came out like this: "Sure.. that will be fine.." So we followed her through the place to a little side door and into paradise...

What met us when we walked through the door was a darkened little room with mounted fish on the wall, booths with high backs providing privacy and a little bar at one end with a short, wizened old man the color of a walnut standing behind it.. "Sit anywhere you like.." is what the barman said to us as the hostess tucked tail and vanished... We found a booth, most were empty, and sat down. The second we sat down a flurry of activity ensued... The wait staff attacked us and before we knew what had happened we were holding huge glasses of sweet tea, eating hush-puppies, waiting on food we ordered while enjoying the arctic blast from the air-conditioner as we strained to look out across the room at the other patrons through the dim lighting in the place...

The food arrived.. I had a grilled seafood platter with stuffed crab. Each item on the huge plate was grilled to perfection. Scallops, mahi mahi, shrimp... dear god... When I thought I could no longer take it.. They brought out the stuffed crab.. Now, if you have never had stuffed crab from Williams Seafood, then just forget about it.. you have never had stuffed crab. When the meal was over and we all felt as if we were about to explode we sat in a quiet daze and watched as the locals came and went through the side door. Eventually we were brought into the room's conversation and spent about three hours there listening to tales about Savannah and Tybee.. It was one of the best meals I've ever had. From that point forward, it was about the only place we ever ate there. We would pull up in the parking lot, look over at the line waiting to get in, grin slyly, then step around the side of the building, walk across the little patio, through the double doors and right to a seat... Perfection...

One of the last trips down we were driving past the place when I said, "What.. where... but.. no... dammit... the..." Then I stopped the car dead in the middle of the road.. Williams was gone... I found out later that it had burned down... Damn.. Just damn...

I've made the rounds, I like Mrs Wilkes dining room, I liked the Lady and sons until it developed a three hour wait to get in.. but then such is the price of fame... I wouldn't wait three hours for front row center seats to the second coming... But nothing can compare to the atmosphere and service of the bar at Williams, simply nothing... The Crab Shack is close, the food great.. but it just misses that certain something... Indeed.. the best trip we ever had there we stayed at the Beach and Racquet club... We stayed a week.. The place had a kitchen so we went shopping, my god seafood from the coast is just frightening it is so good.. We cooked our meals and ate in, did one thing each day and spent each night on the beach. We sat on the balcony and watched the freighters come in the international water way and allowed the ocean breeze to wash over us until the sun rose, then went to bed... To spend an early spring day Exploring Bonaventure Cemetery, eat a huge grouper dinner, walk on the beach for hours, then see a sunrise like that. Excellent.

The days I've spent in that city have brought many experiences my way. The nights even more. I made the trip to Beaufort to visit Dr Buzzards grave once and came away a different person. I have walked Bull Street from one end to the other and gone in every home and business that would have me. I've eaten at every restaurant there, taken every tour, walked the old tunnel from the pirates house to out under the streets, and spent many hours in deep conversation with an old black man in a wheelchair down on River Street that made his living playing a saxophone. I got to introduce my son to him on one trip, that was a moving moment. We had talked many years ago about life and family, seeming to pick up the conversation on each trip right where we left off... I always found him when I was waiting on Julie while she visited all the shops. The only one I go to is River Street Sweets for a banana smoothie and box of pralines, (the smoothie isn't on the menu, but they will make you one...) We would sit down by the water around the full rigged ship that always seemed to be docked there. He told me all about the Vietnam war and how he lost his family. He told me about River Street and it's history. I remember him telling me that I was too impatient when I told him I didn't think I would ever have a family... When he met Patrick he winked over Patrick's shoulder to me and mouthed, "I told you so." Yes, I teared up.

I was hanging around the visitors center one night when a guy asked me if I wanted a carriage ride. I said sure and hopped on... We did the usual ride around the historic district, until he was off work. Yet we kept going. I sat on my knees, leaning over his seat as he told me all about Savannah's history. For hours we poked through that city and I learned more than I ever would from any book. He was a retired salesman who worked for his wife's tour company. I was young, maybe nineteen or so and he gave me several names of people to contact that opened many doors around the city for me to hear about its history, that was a good trip. That was before they closed Bonaventure at night and you could walk around there under the live oaks covered with moss and listen to the dead as they told their tales. Those darkened, sandy roads in that place hold more life than many cities I've been in.

Sitting here in Newnan, in front of this keyboard, I have the feeling that it's time to get back down there. James is in need.. He's never seen the ocean, eaten 'baby chicken' fresh from the ocean (that's what Patrick called shrimp on his first trip there, hey.. it worked, he tried it...), walked on cobble stones laid down hundreds of years ago by slaves, both black and Irish, and he needs to see what this region of the country is all about... magic, pure ass magic...

Me? I just need a little voodoo and a damn good stuffed crab...

**the painting i used is by David Boyd Jr. go check his work out**