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The Rest of the Savannah Story


Drama and flaws aside, Megs and I had a pretty darn good time in Savannah. It was Halloween, and while neither of us are huge let’s get wasted and dance on tables! sort of gals, that didn’t mean we weren’t into showing off our Where’s Waldo? and Carmen San Diego duds for an hour downtown. A quick costume change in the car (I definitely flashed a guy dressed as a giant bottle of ketchup) and we looked like other people entirely.

Immediately upon exiting Huckleberry Fit, three gentlemen in superhero attire approached us and we made bad jokes to one another. With nothing left to say and no one offering anyone drinks, Megs and I walked on. We enjoyed the open-container laws and wandered from one bar to another, enjoying as people noted what we were dressed as and watching as humanity seemed to get drunker the farther down the street we walked. We did find Megan/Waldo’s long lost twin, which was a treat for both of them.



Eventually we ambled into a bar that had…wait for it…a mechanical bull. Yes, every movie you’ve seen about the South is true. If only there had been some high school football stars in the bar I might have died and gone to Varsity Blues inspired heaven. Anyway, Megs grabbed my arm and said, “We are so doing that.” I balked. It’s one of those things that looks dangerous, like go-karting and jumping out of an airplane. Megan peer pressured me and bought me a drink.

She reminded me that we could film it and send it to our Executive Producer and make him laugh. And I am a sucker for making Noah laugh.

Exhibit A of suckerness:

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Exhibit B:

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We tried to follow up our bull riding act with line dancing, but honestly we were just too good at getting down by comparison that very little hilarity ensued, though a nice Southern gentleman did try to hit on me (I think? He might have just been being polite). As we walked back to the car we found a trumpeter playing the Marine’s song and I sang along boldly, so much so that other people moved really far away from us to have private conversations (possibly about my lack of knowledge of the Marine Corp’s lyrics).



Last but not least, the next morning I made a video to send to Noah with a greeting card that made both Megan’s and my lives better since Delaware. Seriously, every time one of us was grumpy the other would pick up this card and make it sing and dance.

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As Paul Harvey would say: And that, is the rest of the story.




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