This past weekend my husband and I had planned to sneak away to the other side of Georgia and spend a quiet romantic weekend in Savannah. It did not go as planned. In fact, we ended up hating it so much that we came home a day early and spent the rest of our vacation acting like tourists right here in Atlanta. I’ll be recapping the trip piece by piece over the next few days but let’s go ahead and just start with St. Patrick’s Day.
I only partially blame Savannah for the St. Patrick’s Day ridiculousness. I’m well aware that we should have done more research in to how Savannah celebrates St. Patty’s but even then I’m not sure that we would have been prepared for what awaited us. We didn’t arrive in downtown Savannah until about 7pm (after driving, settling in to the hotel, getting the dogs situated at the hotel, etc) but it was a filthy pile of insanity when we arrived.
The first thing my husband said was, “It looks like we just walked in to Guavaween.”
Guavaween, in case you aren’t familiar, is the latin-flavored Halloween festival that happens in Ybor City, Florida every year. My husband and I, even before we were together, used to go every year. We loved the drunken revelry of Guavaween! The bands…the DJ’s…the costumes…the parties…it was fun! Even if you didn’t drink, you could have fun. In Savannah, on St. Patrick’s Day, drinking was all that happened.
There were thousands upon thousands of drunken fools.
Shortly after we arrived downtown my husband stepped away to look inside of a little shop on the riverfront. I stayed outside, wanting to people watch. Before I was even able to make my way to the benches a man ran up behind me and pinched me (hard!) on the upper back of my right thigh despite the fact that I was wearing green / white striped shorts. I turned around expecting to see my husband smiling mischievously and instead saw some random fool grinning and at me and pinching his fingers. I shoved him. Hard. The pinch on the back of my thigh was bleeding because he’d broken the skin. The drunken fool stumbled backward and a cop came over to ask what was going on. I showed him my thigh with the broken skin and blood. The drunken fool said, “It’s St. Patty’s.” The cop looked at me and said, “Hon, you should have worn green.” My insistence that I was wearing green fell on deaf ears. No matter that even if I wasn’t wearing green, that did not give a stranger the right to assault me on the street for my wardrobe choice. I then saw my husband walking my direction and we left without further incident. I wanted to avoid making the situation worse and move on with the night.
There were pools of urine on the sidewalk, puddles of vomit in the street, trash everywhere, and far too little security. We watched at least 3 fights break out over nothing. Most of the shops and parlors on the Riverfront had turned in to bars for the night. There was even an ice cream parlor that had replaced their ice cream counter w/ a bar.
We had intended to have dinner on the Riverfront but almost every restaurant down there was packed to the gills with people that were too drunk to even stand up. We watched a kid get in to a fight with a bouncer over a fake ID and a couple of other people vomit in the street. We eventually walked a few blocks away and grabbed a bit to eat at a place called Churchill’s Pub. The food wasn’t very good but we were starving after traveling all day.
On our walk back to the car we did spot a DJ performing on the corner so we did stop over there for a bit to grab a drink and dance. After about 20 minutes there was yet another fight the police didn’t do anything about, more vomit and urine on the street, and when I watched people carelessly dancing through the pee puddles we knew it was time to go. I’m sorry, but that’s just gross.
Oh…and the blatant and disgusting displays of racism? Ugh! That’s for tomorrow’s post.
Needless to say…Savannah on St. Patrick’s Day is not the place for us.