November 8 - November 15, 2005 Savannah

Someone bought a house in Savannah, Georgia and asked if I wanted to drive down in my sister's fancy BMW to bring a hint of class and hipness to the yankee-hatin' South. I said, "Sure -- you're paying for all my meals at Cracker Barrel" and off I went. On day one I was speeding past trees in my borrowed car, listening to loud rock music and flipping off every single car I passed the entire 13 hour drive down I-95 from Jersey to Georgia. Would you believe I got to North Carolina on one tank of gas? That's some sweet German automobile engineering for you.
I felt as high as the tops of those trees. It was November, and although the foliage in New Jersey was already changing, the further south I drove the greener the surrounding trees became.
I don't know why I took this picture. I guess maybe I just wanted to prove I could operate a camera and a luxury automobile at the same time. You should see how I operate a lady's body...
You know what that is, don't you? It's the view from the Cracker Barrel parking lot.
South of the Border is a lot like Ozarkland on steroids. It's Great Adventure, Disneyland and Ozarkland rolled into one package. Of course, the only people who go there are overweight southerners who are looking to clog their arteries and openly speak racist remarks at anyone they pass who does not have a farmer's tan. Also, the only person I know who has ever eaten there got food poisoning.
There it is. South of the Borders.
Welcome to the South.
I took three years of photography classes for this? Every time I take a picture that turns out like this, a little piece of me dies. I feel like a failure. What the fuck is that supposed to be?
An open field. A chance to frolic. A lost opportunity.
I was thinking, "Oh wow! Marshlands!" But I hadn't seen the real deal yet.
On my first full day in Savannah, I went downtown to explore. It being Veteran's Day, there was a long parade procession snaking its way through downtown Savannah.
Walking around inside Colonial Cemetary.
I walked miles and miles through downtown Savannah, visiting a great number of the squares (Chippewa, Oglethorpe, Wright, Johnson, Reynolds, Chatham and Warren) that make the city so unique.
The placid waters of the Savannah River.
Walking down the cobblestones of River Street.

More River Street

Climing Up Stairs

Looking Out over the river.

I got drunk here for lunch.

I don't remember what street this is.

More stills from various squares.

As I drove back to Skidaway Island, I stopped at Pin Point, but felt really bad about taking pictures. Instead, I decided to photograph Moon River and the marsh.

On my third day, they held a chili cookoff on the island. I was in chili bliss. I was like the Pope of Chili Town. You don't grow up watching the Simpsons episode where Homer eats a chili from "Quetzlzacatenango" and goes on a mysterious spirit journey and NOT love chili cookoffs.

Chili booth.

More please.

After the cookoff, I was a bit fatigued. I went to sleep. The next day, I set out on a fifteen mile bike ride around the entire island. Here are some of the many, many photographs I took on my ride.

I stopped for water at the new house. I haven't been back to Savannah since this trip, so I have no idea what the place looks like now that it has been furnished. I imagine it is quite comfortable and fun.

That's my friend Smooshy. I found him in the kitchen and buried him in the yard. His grave is marked with a twig that I doubt is still there.

I don't remember how I spent the remainder of my time in Savannah. In all likelihood, I played some golf, drank some beers, and generally had a good time. During the drive back to New Jersey I stopped in Baltimore and explored the Inner Harbor. It was freezing cold outside and I left the camera in the car. When I arrived home in New Jersey, I partied really hard alone in my room, put on some old LPs and then it began to snow.