Escape to Tybee Island; Discover the Atlantic Ocean, discover yourself! So that was our plan and we set off for the Visitor Center to get the first shuttle bus of the day. Arriving well before 10 o'clock in case there might be a crowd, we were informed the the service was due to start running every day, but was currently only operating Fridays to Sundays. A helpful volunteer lady telephoned the shuttle people and obviously had a confusing conversation before advising us that there would be no service today "It's an island thing, they go their own way". How about a taxi we asked; "Oh Lordy, that would be thirty dollars or more each way". She suggested we'd be better renting a car, so Mike phoned, it rang and rang, but he got no answer. Back to the info counter and they called; it would be over an hour before they could bring a car to us, we would have to go to them. We sat and discussed whether we wanted to do that, or what else we should do, then went to a third helpful man at the info desk. He knew someone at another car rental place, called, and was informed it would be even later before they could get a car to us. We decided to walk to the first place, which is where we had dropped off our Charleston car.
Seething chaos is probably a reasonable summary of the Enterprise office. Two guys on multiple phones, their tiny office full of people trying to get cars to replace vehicles of their own which had just been dropped off at two adjacent repair places, and other people outside who couldn't get into the office yet. We heard multiple repeats of the same conversation "My insurance company told me to come get a car right now", answered by "But we don't have you coming in for two more days, this happens all the time". In the middle of this we had a snatched conversation, only to be told Enterprise had no cars to offer us. Asked why they had not told us that during three separate phone conversations from the Visitor Center, the shrugged response seemed to be that it was a fluid situation that had changed since 20 minutes earlier, plus the unarguable fact that "It was Monday". Nevertheless Mike did argue, and was told that he "Wasn't helping his case". In among the continuing repeats of their insurance company script, including one guy whose car had been stolen and he need to get to work, we kept being told to wait whilst they waded through the chaos, and kept trying to ascertain how long 'waiting' might actually mean. No answer seemed forthcoming, other than the only car we would be likely to get today would be a premium car at almost double the charge Mike had been given on the phone. Having left the hotel for our island trip at 9:15, the time was rapidly approaching midday and we decided to abandon our plan. Once again between other conversations, we enquired about a car for 9 o'clock tomorrow morning. Amazingly, the answer was "No problem". We will see.
Back outside, away from the chaos, the day had warmed up to the most humid of our trip so far. How should we spend the rest of our unplanned day? On the way back to the Visitor Center, Jan suggested we could investigate the adjacent Railroad Museum. One of the friendly people we had spoken to earlier talked to us for a while and convinced us it was worth a visit (well, he was also the guy selling the admission tickets!), but in this case he was absolutely correct. After a quick lunch, we wandered around what remains of the original 38-bay steam engine roundhouse before joining three separate 30 minute guided tours, led by the one guide. The first tour took us behind the scenes, in and around the various engines they own and operate. We then moved on to walk around and through the two luxury Pullman-type passenger cars they own, both of which featured showers in the cabins, and one of which featured a basic air-conditioning system using air being passed across four enormous ice blocks slung in containers between the wheel frames under the carriage. The third tour took us through the historic workshops and the steam-powered plant that provided power for all the metal working and wood working machines used in the various shops.
One of the first things that was very apparent from the moment we arrived in Savannah was that the city had an alcohol open container law, meaning in this case, unlike some others, permitted rather than banned. This evening we learned tonight a completely bizarre legal twist on that theme. Unable to get a dinner reservation at the hugely popular Olde Pink House, we had been advised to try our luck at their bar, which doesn't take reservations but serves the same menu. Walking up to put our names on the list at just after 7 PM, we were completely amazed to be actually sitting at an outside table by 7:15. The bottle of wine we ordered was brought out whilst we went through the elaborate menu, and our waitress explained that by Savannah law she was required to cover the label for any kerbside bottle, even for something like Coca Cola. Our server quickly decided that she was our best friend hanging around our table to chat as the crowd thinner and she seemed to have free time. When our meal was finished she gave us a guided tour of the house, a definite perk of listening to her life story, ending in the cellar where live music was provided by a woman of advanced years bedecked with jewels, more than ample makeup, and clothes and a hat to stop traffic in any city.
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