A day in Savannah

I got to Savannah around 5pm...I was really excited about getting to the hotel. I got a great deal on Priceline, and wanted to know exactly what I was in for $79/night. The result? AWESOME!

I'm right next to City Hall - the picture to the left was taken from my room - *and* I can see the river from my window (although I kind of have to crane my head a tiny bit.)

They told me that they can park my car for me...for $18/day. They do valet only, they told me...and parking is tricky in these parts. I later discovered that there is a lot next door that I can park in for free until 8am, and then renew my parking spot for 5 hours for $3.50...kind of seems worth waking up at 8am to save $15...especially since there are so many other things to spend that money on.

I dropped off my bags, and realized that I was a little short on clothes. I suddenly realized that I'd *planned* on bringing several shirts that I had hanging on hangers...but I left those hangers in the closet and only brought the bag I'd packed. So...I had plenty of underwear, jeans, shoes, socks, and everything EXCEPT for shirts. I'd noticed a cool second-hand clothing store (named 'The Clothing Warehouse') on my drive in, and tracked the place down and asked the guy there for some suggestions. I soon walked out with a couple changes of clothes to last me well for the next couple days of eating and drinking.

I was told to head to Jekyll Island because there's an amazing restaurant at the end of a pier there that serves amazing crab. I'm from Maryland, and telling me that there's a place to get fresh crab is all you need to say...so, obviously, that was my next stop.

Unfortunately, I didn't realize that Jekyll Island is a 90 minute drive from here...but, the promise of delicious crab at the end of a quaint pier was too much to ignore.

I worked my way down I-95 and finally got to Jekyll Island. I'm sure the place is picturesque, but it's really hard to tell in the dark...but I didn't care. I only barely noticed the ratty little barbecue joint as I drove in towards the island. I followed the directions on my TomTom and got closer and closer to the fabled unnamed restaurant at the end of the pier.

On arriving at Jekyll Island I met the toll-taker who looked crestfallen as I told her what I was in search of. She was able to give me directions but had some bad news. I drove to make sure...and she was right.

The "Rah" Bar is closed on Mondays...as are most restaurants on Jekyll Island. Suck.

I remembered that little BBQ place I saw on my drive in, and the thought of tasty, smoky, sweet barbecue really started to make my mouth water. I remembered that column of smoke rising from the place, and realized that my proximity to Brunswick, Georgia almost ensured that I was in store for a really great meal.

However, as I arrived at that little barbecue place, I noticed the plume of smoke was gone...as were any cars in the parking lot. I parked and went to the front door...the sign read that they closed at 8pm. It was 7:58 by my clock...but the place was abandoned, locked, and empty.

I hoped that the TomTom would be able to help me find some sort of barbecue *somewhere* in Brunswick...but, don't be fooled. Brunswick, Georgia closes at 8pm...except for one place: The New China Restaurant. I hadn't eaten almost all day...and there's nothing better than salty Wonton soup and super-sweet tea when you're desperate for food.

I made my way back to Savannah and got back to the hotel, and realized (after parking) that there were two bars just across the street. I walked into 'Moon River' and asked when last call was. I was told it was half an hour ago...then asked what I wanted drink. The place was still stacked with at least a dozed suit-clad big-spending conventioneers...and the bartender was not at all anxious to kick *them* out...so his patience was my gain. I got a drink and a shot, and settled next to a girl in a hockey sweatshirt reading the New York Times.

She was homely and seemed Canadian...but she was really from New England. She used to be a US Marine, but now works at a funky lunch place...and is studying historical preservation. Her skill at conversation was obviously adapted from her training at recruiting agents...so it was a lot of pushing for details and little rapport-building.

I closed my tab, and wandered my way down Whitaker street and found a couple people sitting in a dimly lit bar sipping on drinks and listening to recorded jazz music. The place was named "Circa 1875"...I'm guessing that's from the date on the liquor license posted on the wall. I grabbed a Stella Artois and talked to a couple of sous-chefs from the area. We did shots (them Jameson, me Firefly) and talked about the area, places to eat, and how the economy is treating everyone. I learned that a restaurant named Garibaldi's may be the pace to go for local seafood...and, on my way back to the hotel, found out that Paula Deen's restaurant is just two blocks from here.

I've got a rough itinerary for tomorrow...but I guess we'll see what happens...time to go to bed.