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My brother Jeffrey, a pasty white land-lubber from the middle of the middle-est state in America, was visiting us during his birthday. As a present, we took him out kayaking. “What is this?”, he shrieked, voice full of terror.

“That’s the ocean, Jeffrey. It’s just water.”

Our brother-in-law Joe had come up from Jacksonville to partake in the fun, and we all arrived early at North Island Surf & Kayak, on the interior border of Tybee Island. The usual proprietor was out-of-town, and his parents were down from Augusta to manage the place. They were a super-friendly couple, fully possessed of that southern tendency to chat openly with complete strangers. It still takes me off-guard to suddenly be swapping stories about my childhood or their dog who’d been poisoned by malicious neighbors, with someone I’ve just met.

The four of us spent the whole day out on the water — split between paddling up the Lazaretto Creek which flows inland, and then into the ocean. Joe and I managed to spot dolphins, one of which surfaced just ten feet from my kayak. Although Jeffrey and Juergen weren’t so lucky, we all had an awesome time. Being outdoors on a perfect, warm fall morning, exercising muscles that haven’t been used in probably 10 years… it was a great way to spend the day.

The kayaks cost us $40 apiece to rent for an entire day, which seems perfectly fair. They were of good quality — despite being total newbies to the sport, none of us were ever in danger of capsizing. And the North Island shop is perfectly situated; you can choose to go upstream, paddle over to Fort Pulaski, or just along the coast of Tybee. They also do day-long guided tours.

North Island Surf & Kayak
Across the Lazaretto Creek Bridge on Tybee Island
Location on our Map
912-786-4000

$75 Off at BedandBreakfast.com

READ: The Insider’s Guide To Roller Derby

Last night, we went to the Roller Derby match between Savannah’s own Derby Devils, and the Cape Fear Roller Girls. I had only been familiar with the sport from the 80s program RollerGames (Saturday afternoons, right after American Gladiator!) And Juergen had never seen it at all.

The sport practiced by the Derby Devils has absolutely nothing to do with the WWF-like circus I so fondly remembered. These chicks play for real! I was shocked by the brutality of it … a couple hits would have made Lawrence Taylor piss his pants. And watching one of the more lithe girls bob and weave her way to the front of the pack, just dodging the massive hip of one of the opposing blockers, was heart-pounding.

It was the last match of the season, and the Supergoose Arena was packed. It’s awesome the way Savannah gets behind their Derby Devils. There were two hours of tailgating in the parking lot, and much of the audience came equipped with signs to cheer on their favorite players — players with stage names like Fear Abby and Sexecutioner Jr.

Unfortunately for the home crowd, the Roller Girls of Cape Fear were the superior (and much larger, much more terrifying) team. But the final score was secondary to the fun which everyone was having. And my misgivings about the sport of Roller Derby’s authenticity have vanished — these girls are serious athletes.

Savannah Derby Devils Website
Location of Supergoose Arena

- Savannah Tours

During the years we spent in Spain, while we were drinking red wine and eating incredible, organic dishes straight from Valencia’s fields, the Paula Deen Phenomenon was sweeping America. I had never heard of her, before moving to Savannah, but here she’s a bona fide celebrity. No matter where you turn, there she is, round, matronly face peering out of a store-front window, dominating the cover of every magazine, sneaking into every conversation. “You look skinny”, she seems to be saying. “Come, let Mrs. Deen rectify that.”

Everyone we’ve met in Savannah has had two pieces of advice for us. 1) At all costs, avoid eating at Paula Deen’s restaurant, Our Lady and Sons. 2) Since eating there is unavoidable, make sure to stock up on cholesterol medication.

I didn’t understand how eating at a restaurant could be “unavoidable”. You simply don’t go! But that was before I talked to my friends and family not from Savannah. “Paula Deen! You have to take me.” “I’ll come visit, sure. On one condition: we eat at The Lady and Sons.” “So tell me all about her restaurant. WHAT?! How can you not have eaten there yet?! SATAN!” That’s not hyperbole. My kindly, sweet aunt called me Satan.

And so we went, when my brother was visiting. It was everything everyone said it would be, both good and bad. We got the buffet, and I’ve never eaten greasier food. Even my beer was greasy. And we had a fantastic time watching the people for whom The Lady and Sons was a sort of deep-fried Mecca. My brother was transfixed by this woman at the neighboring table who, with every bite of her biscuit, went into a holy spasm of gratified rapture. So delicious. She had been waiting so very long, and now her pilgrimage was complete.

People really love this Paula Deen lady! I’ve still never seen her show, though I did look up the the ham-face incident on YouTube. From what people have said, she seems like a great person — fame couldn’t have happened to a nicer, more humble woman. We’d love to meet her. So Paula, if you’re reading and can forgive my calling your restaurant a grease-pit, hit us up! We’ll do lunch… at our house.

The Lady & Sons
102 West Congress Street
Location on our Savannah Map