A Finger Lickin Taste of Savannah

Other people visiting Savannah come away from the experience loving the delightful old world charm of the place. This was my second visit there and my memories are somewhat less amorous but still unforgettable. What I remembered about the first visit was the riverfront walk, the Savannah Belles Ferry, the cobblestones, the historic buildings and narrow sidewalks, the store fronts with air bubbles issuing forth, the traffic and how hard it was to find legal parking. Then there was the matter of our departure. At the end of the day there seemed no way out of the place. After leaving the crowded tourist area at the waterfront we drove down street after street looking for signs that would direct us to the highway, any highway. There were none, (that must be how Georgia taxes remain so low, so after many frustrating dead ends and endless circling I decided to bury my, now nonexistent male pride, and ask directions from people on the street. I stopped a half dozen and not a one knew how to get to the highway . Perhaps they weren't drivers.

On this more recent visit I wasn't going to let that happen again and so my wife and I decided to take the green, Fare Free Cat Shuttle Trolley, depicted in the brochure we were handed. It had been recommended to us by local residents of the city who worked at the visitors center. You could board it at designated locations throughout the city, get off anywhere and after seeing the sights re board a subsequent bus. That sounded like an ideal way for a tourist to experience the charm and history of the place and do so at your own speed. So that's what we did. It took a half hour of waiting at the first designated "Stop" before we realized that the actual shuttle was to be white not green and it was a bus not a trolley. Several had passed before we woke up to what was happening. That was to be only the first of our naive awakenings.

Awakening # 2

We were the only tourists using the free shuttle. This was how the poor people from the city got around. We sat there among them, conspicuously unfolding and refolding our city street maps which only exaggerated our appearance of being tourists who belonged elsewhere. They were our companions throughout the trip and the bus driver knew every one of them by name and what was happening in their lives. He had a good sense of humor and kept the southern style conversation going. He stopped between designated stops greeting people on the street. At one actual stop was a blind man with a cane and without a seeing eye dog. The driver pulled up to him, opened the door and explained," Leroy, this is not your bus, there's two more behind me. the first one is not yours. Take the one after that".

Awakening # 3

There was a woman seated next to me who the driver kept joking with in a flirtatious manner. I couldn't understand everything that was being said because of their unfamiliar southern accents. She didn't appear to be as good natured as he was and smiled not at all. We had gone about ten stops when it began. The woman rose and left the bus at a stop that meant nothing to me. There were no sights evident anywhere nearby out the windows or on my map. The bus door remained ajar and the driver pulled up the brake and relaxed back into his seat. Five minutes passed and nothing had changed. Everyone remained seated and seemed content to just wait. Then the driver got up and left the bus with the door open. Everyone, including us remained in place. What could possibly explain this highly unusual turn of events? My active imagination kicked into gear. Having grown up in New York City I knew a robbery plot when I saw one. I was anticipating a gang of thieves who had been summoned by the young lady shill and the bus driver who could deny responsibility because he wasn't there were about to board the bus and rob us. Would it be safer to get out into the street? Fifteen minutes later the female returned carrying take out food from "Popeye's" restaurant. She took her seat. Five minutes later the driver returned with his box from Popeye. He closed the door and proceeded along his route.

That my tourist friends is a finger licking taste of the other Savannah, the one most of us never see.