Well my dear friends, my trip to Savannah back in June can be summed up in the following: Peorian Men and Secret Bars.
Peorian men you ask?
To start from the beginning, D and I made the hour drive from Hilton Head to Savannah. After circling the blocks for 10 minutes we gritted our teeth and decided to just pay for parking. Parking was $2/hour. We unclenched our teeth remembering we no longer were in NYC.
As we wandered up and down the river, we made friends with 4 men from “Chicago.” It turns out they were at Hilton Head for an insurance convention. Here’s the creepy part, they were staying at our hotel and that morning D and I sat next to them as we lounged by the pool.
They bought us drinks. We invited them to dinner.
Next thing we know, we are with the two older insurance men, who were actually from Peoria, and we were in search of a secret speakeasy called “Mata Hari’s.”
I’ve expressed my love of speakeasies before, but this was a true delight because it was an exceptional challenge to find. First, one needs a key to get in. Second, it is not easily found on the internet.
I had D and these two men searching the city for two hours. We asked cab drivers and hotel concierges. Everyone we could find. We wandered into a restaurant that forgot to lock its doors and had a few drinks while walking outdoors. When it seemed hopeless I decided to give it one more shot. I saw a police car. I sachet over to the car and asked the officer the location. He knew exactly where it was but had one concern, how would I get in?
It seems that people tend to underestimate New York charm, which is what I told him.
To make things short and sweet, we all enjoyed our drinks at Mata Hari’s while sharing some great laughs and ended the night with the gift of a key so now D and I can go whenever we’d like.
Oh, and let’s not forget- the two Peorian men? We ended up driving them back to the hotel.