At what point do you officially become a “local?” Five years? Ten? Twenty? Stick around long enough, and eventually, you’ll earn the title. But with that distinction comes a certain responsibility: you’ll be expected to serve as a part-time tour guide, restaurant critic, and navigation expert whenever a tourist needs help.
A friend of mine recently moved from NYC to St. Simons and told me she had biked to “downtown.” I quickly realized she meant the Village. I corrected her, explaining that locals simply call the shopping/dining area near The Pier “The Village,” not downtown. She then asked, “But why isn’t it called Pier Village? That’s what the sign says.”
I love listening to longtime locals give directions using old landmarks that no longer exist.
“To get to The Village, head south on Frederica, past where the old stables and the St. Simons dump used to be. Keep going until you hit a traffic light—don’t ask me the street name, but if you take a right, you’ll end up where the old drive-in theater was. Keep straight, and you’ll pass where Mock’s IGA used to be, then Poor Stephen’s, and you’ll get to Demere. It’s a roundabout now, but back in the day, there was Chancy’s Filling Station—well, that’s gone too. Stay on Demere. Now that’s Dim-r-ee, not D-meer-ay. But not Old Demere where the Bloody Marsh monument is. Then take East Beach Causeway…”
By this point, the wide-eyed visitor usually fakes a phone call and quickly walks away.
I think I’ll call my friend and tell her to meet me at The Pier.
