Escaping the corporate crossfire of an old job, where upper leadership’s permanent “I’m a bully because I did not have friends as a child” attitude finally pushed me out the door, required a serious palette cleanser before starting my next chapter to my save the world, work in healthcare fetish.
Naturally, I spent a few days in Savannah, a city so utterly sweltering that the local weather forecast oscillated strictly between sweating in places that defy the laws of human anatomy and 107 degrees of active physical melting.
Our sanctuary for the week was an Airbnb hosted by Carlos and Marci. For the most part, it was a nice sanctuary, even if the master bed featured a dramatic central crater that screamed it had been heavily utilized by generations of weary travelers. There were other gotchas including the stove that only worked if you cocked your eyebrow just right, the pan that I am sure has been used in several murder investigations as it was bent – literally divets – that made it teeter totter and the shower that has only one setting of “boiled crab, anyone?!?” The real crown jewel however was the private pool, which offered a blissfully relaxing bath water defense against the oppressive Georgia heat. As an added bonus, the hosts allowed our four-legged little guy to join the getaway. The $50-a-day pet fee felt a tad steep. Apparently, housebroken status grants no discounts in the getaway economy but when executing a last-minute escape plan, you pay the toll without complaint.
Downtown was as gloriously touristy as they come, serving up a wild mix of classic Southern hospitality and a few questionable souls who clearly hated their jobs with the power of a thousand suns. Like everywhere else, in Savannah you have those who are happier than a pig in slop and others who are madder than a wet hen just because they have to exert themselves by breathing.
But when in Savannah – go whole hog….
The local hospitality gurus always save the day and Andrea has a hidden cape or magical wings stowed away. Her stomping ground – Wet Willie’s, the legendary frozen daiquiri haven. She was an absolute peach who operated with a delightful little bee in her bonnet, mainly because she took it upon herself to personally ensure our over zealous taste testing ended with a mid-afternoon buzz which had us festooning and tremble dancing in the streets. The kicks and giggles were only interrupted by one of our friends encountering a Detroit close talking diva who was drunker than Cooter Brown and more than ready to abscond him to her hive!
Right next door sat Bozena’s, a quaint little shop packed with adorable memorabilia practically screaming to be adopted. It was guarded by a cashier so utterly motionless I originally mistook her for a plastic mannequin though it turned out she was just deeply occupied solving world hunger on her phone. When I finally brought my selections to the counter, my presence triggered a state of severe, customer-friendly paralysis. To actually pay, I practically had to contort my body and crawl headfirst through the tiny hole in the plastic partition just to tap my credit card. Miss Thang was truly as helpful as a bump on a log. Unless the owner of Bozena’s is a bored multimillionaire running a tax write-off, management might want to field-trip the staff over to a Chick-fil-A to learn a thing or two about basic human interaction and Southern grace.
When in Savannah bars are the thing so it was only befitting to visit the first original cookie bar! Founded in 1924 by Benjamin Tillman “Pop” Byrd Sr., who originally baked and delivered Scotch Oatmeal cookies in his Model T van, Byrd’s Famous Cookies is a historic family-owned bakery serving up crunchy bite size treats. We managed to consume what was legally considered more than our fair share of free samples, as well we dragged home a small mountain of sweet reminders, ie Scotch Oatmeal (an absolute masterpiece), Key Lime and Georgia Peach coolers.
Over at B&D Burgers, guarded by alligator decor large enough to qualify as a state landmark, Casey was an absolute star, eagerly guiding us toward culinary gold and warning us away from the landmines. Her top recommendation, the blackened chicken nachos, was so dangerously good that I am currently drafting a formal petition to bring a B&D location directly to Raleigh.
When we grew tired of fixing our own breakfast, we decided to hit up Goose Feathers Cafe downtown. It gave off all the right signals for an authentic Southern cafe, but the reality was a mixed bag. The food was perfectly fine just nothing extraordinarily mind-blowing and the service left quite a bit to be desired, leaving us wishing for a pinch of that famous Southern charm. The entire visit went over like a wet fart in church. So likely not a desired repeat during future visits.
Afterwards, we wisely bypassed the horse-drawn carriage tours, partly because sitting in 107-degree heat behind a horse felt like a medieval punishment, and partly because paying over a hundred bucks to get heatstroke felt a bit steep.
Wiley’s BBQ proved that true genius ignores exterior aesthetics. It looks like a building most people would drive right past, but as self-respecting BBQ connoisseurs, our friends knew better and the food was so transcendent we had to visit twice just to make sure it wasn’t a hallucination.
Between meals, we braved a drive-through tour of Bonaventure Cemetery an absolute must-see in Savannah. While gawking at resting places might sound a bit morbid, it was a fascinating history lesson, complete with headstones older than time itself. Sadly, a few of those ancient plots looked as though the caretaker hadn’t checked on them in at least a millennium. Afterwards I heard that the cemetery scavenger hunt is well worth the tour price. This dog won’t hunt but throwing it out there for those who may be planning a visit.
We also took a scenic drive out to Tybee Island, traversing beautiful, endless salt marshes that naturally sparked dramatic conversations about the sudden threat of quicksand. We couldn’t help but marvel at the brave souls who built houses right next door to what had to be the absolute worst neighbors on earth: giant alligators and poisonous snakes. There is no doubt those critters lie waiting hidden just below the surface until sunset. I am still questioning if the scenery on the salt marshes are worthy of poking those bears
Tybee Beach itself felt like a scaled-down version of Daytona, minus the hot rods and beach cruisers driving across the hard-packed sand. Our coastal outings consisted mostly of wading through the surf, aggressively hunting for shells, and playing high-stakes dodgeball with menacing black Georgia crabs. There was zero sugar-soft sand to dig our toes into, meaning no lazy afternoons laying out on towels and chasing seagulls away.
As a certified, self-proclaimed ice cream connoisseur, I went on an urgent island-wide mission for soft serve, only to uncover the devastating tragedy that not a single soft-serve shop existed on the entire island. The absolute saving grace to this civic failure was Arrie’s Ice Cream, which made up for it by dishing out massive scoops of Blue Bell. The lovely woman behind the counter served everyone with a beaming smile, and we later learned she was actually Arrie’s grandmother, single-handedly keeping her son and daughter-in-law’s business afloat with pure matriarchal charm and a heavy handed ice cream scoop.
On the flip side, let this be a warning that you should never believe everything online reviews tell you, because I would highly not recommend Sunrise Restaurant for breakfast or any other meal. It was giving off major “Waffle House wannabe” energy from a plain strip mall setting. While the waitress was sweet enough, the food tasted and felt suspiciously microwaved, entirely devoid of any true Savannah sweetness. Just making note for future visits….. if I have my druthers.
Savannah was definitely a “been there, done that” check off the bucket list, and while I wouldn’t say I’d never go back, we certainly hit the highlights. All in all, this break from reality taking a break during our heat-soaked week in Savannah was the ultimate vacation to recharge my soul before diving into a new role that I’m truly hoping will be my first, last, and forever gig.
Leave a Reply