After a morning of orange slices, soccer games, and debating with my husband about the garage fridge, we dropped the drama and escaped with our two daughters to Tybee Island.
Sometimes that’s all the fam needs you know? A time-out. Drop the chores and go. Leave the veggie burgers, lettuce, and dirty dishes on the counter...just ditch the house and adventure... damnit.
My target destination was Tybee Island because I assumed since it was tank top weather in my town, Tybee wouldn't shock us with a chilly 65. I was wrong. We planned on bumping the volleyball around, but the wind and sand in our eyes killed the ambiance.
Plans change, so instead of digs on the beach, we rushed into the overpriced stores flipping through every long sleeve rack that appealed. Yikes. Who designs tourist gear anyway? Probably a bunch of unicorns that got high and decided to piss the rainbow over any white piece of clothing. Masterpiece. But at $24.99, the long sleeves kept us warm and "in" with the crowd.
While we bounced from shop to shop, my Boba-addicted daughter spotted RAW.
A nicely priced delight folded in waves of crab and jewels of scallops, the Lava roll was an afternoon cap on a cold Saturday in Tybee Island. RAW, that’s where the brainwashed generation of southerners roam to collect their creamy bubble teas and sushi after getting wiped out at Tybee Island.
Imagine, just a tiny stretch of pavement peppered with novelty shops, a few small bars, and your typical burger, chicken finger, nacho stops. A pier is off to your right and the smell of salted air lingers with nostalgic herbs...from the pizza shop nearby. Hehe.
On a beach strip, in the South, this hip little sushi chapel is in a league of its own. Beating to their own taiko drums. Ushering in their own kind. And not paying any mind to the stuffy pastels who tiptoed in and ran out...freaked by the chalk art. You know who you are, I saw you.
Some people don't like chalk I guess.
A laid-back posse of bros channeling their taste for sushi, the sea, school days, and good times on a simple picnic table, reeled us in. We strolled in for bubble tea and stayed for the scenery. We were brainwashed by aliens living on the chalkboards.
American food does not excite this belly unless it's clean and inventive. Ethnic food, on the other hand, gets my diesel engine purring. The service was great, I felt like high-fiving the bros, but they were busy so maybe next time. Plate presentation is everything, they dressed it like picking out an outfit for their girlfriends, careful and craftily. Dotted with a spot of wasabi and thinly sliced ginger, the Lava roll glided onto our taste buds with spouts of cream and clumps of fresh shrimp. Warm and moist, my 12-year old inhaled these sushi jewels lacking a total appreciation for the teleportation I was having, living in Japan over 2 decades ago.
So kids. Don't. Inhale. Your. Food.
Oh and the hidden scallops, those must've been fished out of Ariel's cave of thingamabobs, because whoa... capital Divine I felt like Nicolas Cage in National Treasure, finding those gems.
I had to karate chopstick my daughter's weapons before she snatched another without breathing before biting. But, I can't blame her for knowing good food... she's gonna be an expensive date someday.
We ended it with Bubble teas for dessert. Creamy, light, simple...an easy five bucks of joy. The only challenge from the visit... a splinter. I slid in excitement onto the picnic bench and got poked in the a** right before we ate. Stung a bit, my husband and I locked eyes then let out a roar. We laughed that watery-eyed laugh. That was a good moment, a raw moment.
It was a sign that I'll never forget the time or reason that led us to RAW.
Remember the "debate" I mentioned earlier about the garage fridge? We never debate, that word is too diplomatic for the conversations we have. Temperatures were rising and the meat in our freezer was getting cooked. We needed the adventure, sushi, ugly long sleeves, bubble tea, and brainwashing aliens to get us out of the funk.
So, thank you RAW. And me, for following my intuition.
Sometimes we all just need a time-out, a tiny adventure, decadent sushi, and an acupunctural splinter in my butt to remedy the moment.