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I woke up at 4:22 (I know because I looked at the clock) to
go to the bathroom; outside our door, apparently right outside
our door, there was a bird singing his little fine-feathered heart
out. I couldn't get back to sleep because of the little bugger.
I'm not sure what kind of bird it was; perhaps a brown thrasher,
though not my one-eyed friend, I'm sure; he wouldn't do that to
me. He sang randomly and tunelessly (though at one point I'm sure
he broke into the theme to "The Andy Griffith Show"),
which made it difficult to ignore, and impossible for me to get
back to sleep. I dialed 411 and asked for Atticus Finch's number;
I wanted to ask him if it was a sin to kill a brown thrasher.
Unfortunately there was no such listing.
I put in some styrofoam ear plugs that I bought a couple of years
ago when I stayed at a hotel right beside a major expressway and
soon got back to sleep. I had troubling dreams, though, involving
slingshots and BB guns.
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A sunset over the Savannah River, taken
a few hours before the crazy singing bird woke me up
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This morning, I'm very happy to report, the continental breakfast
included Krispy Kreme donuts; I had two kruellers and two cups
of coffee. We read as we ate. Anna finished her novel, and then
discovered that the other book she brought was one she had heard
as an audio book.
On our way out towards Tybee, then, we stopped at the only sizeable
bookstore nearby, Books-A-Million, my least favorite of the large
chain bookstores (and which Ed Hardy justifiedly calls Books-A-Dozen
due to their poor selection). Anna managed to find a couple of
books to keep herself occupied, though, and then we set out for
Tybee!
We parked at Tybee at exactly 11:22 (I know because I looked
at my watch) and fed 4 hours worth of quarters into the parking
meter. (Which could be the basis of a good math problem for Anna's
students: If it costs 25 cents to park for 30 minutes at the beach,
how much will Chris spend to park for 4 hours? Show your work.)
Anna and I walked up the beach to the pier, walked down the pier
and read the official posted Fish Cleaning Rules ("Do not
throw fish guts or parts into ocean. Use trash cans." I swear,
it says that.), and walked back down the beach. We spent the next
two hours reading, collecting sea shells, watching sea gulls,
and brushing sand off of our blanket. We left after it got unbearably
windy; there were 45 minutes left on the meter.
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Approaching the beach at Tybee
The pier on the beach at Tybee Island
A boy and his father feed the sea gulls
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Our next stop was Fort Pulaski, a military fort that played
a minor part in the Civil War; I think General Custer shot Benedict
Arnold there or something. It's an interesting building to walk
through, with its ammunition magazines and spartan army barracks
and huge cannons. In the gift shop we bought a copy of the Declaration
of Independence for Anna's classroom, but it turns out it was
heavily edited: they cut out the whole "We the people, in
order to form a more perfect Union" part, most of the "Four-score
and seven years ago" section, and there's not word one about
the rockets red glare or the bombs bursting in air. How are the
kids today supposed to learn anything?
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Two cannons in Fort Pulaski
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We ended the evening by absolutely stuffing ourselves at the
Pirate House. The atmosphere was neat, the food was good, and
the dessert was great; having eaten so much makes it difficult
to sit here and finish this travelogue.
But I guess I just did!
Tomorrow's high point: buying cookies at the Byrd Cookie Company.
After that, with much regret, we return home.
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The pirate of the Pirate House
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