Savannah One-Shot

Savannah One-Shot

Stopped in Savannah, Georgia, on our way to our new home in Florida. We were 112% sure Savannah was in the southern part of Georgia, but we couldn’t seem to get out of South Carolina. We were ten miles away from our destination, but still in South Carolina. Was Georgia only a 10-minute drive through? It was not. Savannah is literally the most northern town in Georgia.

The beer there was flat. They were all afraid of foam! The bartender had to explain that the locals hate it. I asked if I could have a new beer with some foam, and she said she wasn’t allowed to pour beers with foam. Now, I’m an avid watcher of Bar Rescue, so I’m what you’d call an expert. If you don’t get any foam with your pour, the CO2 stays trapped in the beer. This is what makes you feel bloated after 1 or 2 beers. I prefer to feel bloated after 10 or 12 beers—and maybe a burger. You should also pour your cans and bottles into a glass to release the CO2.

We were immediately pegged as tourists by everyone in the bar due to my wife's northerner accent. After I pointed this out, she tried to smooth it over with a “Mason-Dixon line” in her best drawl. I'm not convinced. Neither was anyone else. As for me, I always practice my non-regional diction, which didn’t seem to fool anyone either. We drank flat beer and plotted our next move.

Next stop: The Rail, because the sign said "Spirits and Spirits." Naturally, we thought it might be haunted. No ghosts, but the bar had a creepy vibe. It was clean and well-kept, but something was off about the people. Everyone was staring in the same direction, and they all seemed to know each other. It had the ambiance of a secret club, and we definitely didn’t have the password. Also, could I get the password?

It turned out the bar was being filmed for a news segment that evening, and all the regulars had gathered to be on TV. How cute. Wait, no—someone was mooning the camera. Less cute. But look at the reporter with that smooth slide move. He sidestepped and blocked the butt like a pro. That guy has a future in the business. Now, we had to sit here and drink with Butt Guy.

Next, we hit up Vinnie Van Gogos for pizza, only to realize the slices were bigger than my head. I went with pineapple, jalapeño, and pepperoni—bold choices. My wife opted for something boring. Apparently, she’d been there when she was much younger, so we spent the first few minutes of pizza-filled air trying to recreate a photo she’d taken back then. Flawless. We capped off the night at a beer garden, watching the Pittsburgh Pirates pull off a win despite being no-hit through 9 innings. Classic. We grabbed a bottle of wine and a mason jar full of cheesecake—no questions asked. Then we went up to our room.

We woke up to Australian bacon for breakfast and a cold brew. We got some great pictures of Whomping Willow trees. Wait—what are they? They’re Southern Live Oaks covered in Spanish Moss, which is just as cool. Then we did some shopping. The highlight was buying Christmas ornaments from a man who told us between 9 and 400 times that he was personal friends with Jim Shore.

The area was famous for ghosts, so we signed up for a midnight tour. Now, we just had to kill some daylight. We took our time browsing through all the antique stores. I made the joke, "Every antique should come with a free ghost!" Then we saw a sign that said, “Free ghost with every purchase!” They’re always stealing my jokes. Who’s they, you ask? Everyone. We rested up in the room for a bit, then got ready for the afternoon/evening/dinner/night/ghosts.

We went out to start drinking, and a Goose Island rep was there offering to buy our first round, as long as it was a Goose Island. You had me at beer—and free. Joke’s on her, though. I was going to get that anyway. She talked to us like we’d never heard of the company. Apparently, it had no presence in the South. We told her we were from Pittsburgh and love Goose Island. She looked totally duped. We made up for it by explaining the Untappd app. She downloaded it and said she planned to present it at their next regional meeting. This woman also claimed responsibility for popularizing Fireball in recent years. A bit of a stretch. There were a lot of tall tales coming our way today—looking at you, Jim Shore’s friend. She did explain her situation, though. So, look for Untappd to get an uptick in popularity after this lady’s big reveal. Most couples we know who use Untappd have separate accounts and compete with one another. Losers. My wife and I are a team with a joint account. This also helps us beat all those couples. Some call it cheating; I call it love.

Then we hit Treylor Park for dinner. (The street name is Treylor.) They had amazing chicken and biscuits. We got to watch a bachelorette party pound shots. After that, we dipped out the back gate. We bar-hopped a little more but had to pace ourselves since we were ghost hunting from 10 to midnight. I needed to keep my wits about me, but also be drunk enough to not be paralyzed by fear the entire time.

Thank goodness our guide recommended a to-go wine from across the street. He knew what was up. I’ve never been so scared in my life. I needed more wine. There were ghosts everywhere. The details were too horrifying to disclose in this channel. I did not sleep.

OK, fine. I like to think of myself as a pretty tough guy (crippling fear of the dark, dragged into haunted houses by my wife, top three fears include parades, ceiling fans, and medicine cabinets). So, I didn’t expect this to be a turning point in my life. I went from sleeping to not sleeping. There were so many ghosts. The stories our guide told were bone-chilling. I highly recommend this tour. At one point, there was an announcement asking if anyone had seen a white cat. “Aww, no, did somebody lose a kitty?”

The next one was, “What about a little girl in a red dress?”

“Oh no, is she with the kitty?”

Then he says, “OK, well if you do see them, do not go near them. They may be demons.” Oh. Cool. Now there are freaking demons. I guess the technical term was a Boo Hag. This type of thing likes to attach itself to a person and consume their negative feelings like anxiety and depression. Immediately my hand shoots up. “Is this a service that I can sign up for? Is there a waiting list?” Please eat my anxiety. I was then told that the Boo Hag causes these feelings and then eats them. Honey, this bucket is full. But still, less appealing. The only way to tell if one is in your room is if the room is completely pitch black and there’s a slightly darker black shape on the wall. If you see it, that’s her. Hence me staring at every inch of my walls instead of doing normal things like reading while trying not to wake my wife with my night light. There’s an easy way to dismiss these creatures: you have to use one of those non-electric vacuum cleaners—brooms. But it has to be an old-school one, with all the bristles. You need to stop and count each bristle every night, and eventually, they’ll starve.

After an all-nighter—not by choice—we got the car and finished our moving trip to Florida. It was already too hot. What were we thinking?

Until I get dragged somewhere else,

A Lazy Husband.