I am somewhat amazed by the accuracy of this Savannah city profile. The author, a Savannah native, discusses places and activities that real residents (like me and my coworkers) enjoy.
Occasionally out-of-towners ask me for restaurant and recreation suggestions. From now on, I’m forwarding them here.
4. Begin considering over-analyzing all of the possible activities that may await you, taking into consideration the unlikely chance that you’ll go swimming in Minnesota in December, need a costume, have to transition an outfit from day to night, be too cold, be too hot, be too casual, be too formal, or have absolutely nothing to wear to a specific event.
5. Add more outfits to the suitcase.
6. Add more necklaces, mittens, shoes, earrings, tights, belts, headbands, scarves, bracelets, gloves and pajamas to the suitcase.
7. Realize you have grossly overpacked.
8. Remove one pair of socks from the suitcase.
9. Hold the suitcase in mid-air and balance precariously on the bathroom scale to check the bag’s weight.
10. Remove one more pair of socks from the suitcase and say a little prayer.
David has been overseeing the installation of new equipment at a lactose processing plant in Norfolk, Nebraska, for the past few months. Lately he’s been making trips to the plant to manage the project in person. As you can tell, he’s enthusiastic about the nightlife options in Norfolk. The No. 1 tourist attraction in the community is the county history museum, so he knew he was in for a wild evening!
Wild evening = sedated-looking conversation on video chat
When I spoke to him this morning I asked if he had plans to go out for a nice breakfast to make up for his boring Saturday night. He’d already eaten and then went on to explain how much he detests french toast sticks at the Hampton Inn’s breakfast buffet.
“You know it’s bad when you know all the menu items for the continental breakfast, you know one of the receptionists by name, and she gives you free cookies when you come in,” he said.
Introducing LAS transport, the newest competitor for UPS and FedEx
Instead of buying my obscenely expensive plane ticket home to Minnesota for Christmas and back to Savannah, I should have invested in a sleigh like Santa’s or a commercial delivery truck.
During the holiday season I was a lean, mean, Christmas present delivering machine. A week or so ago I hauled three people’s gifts in packed, crammed and snugly situated TSA-approved luggage to the snowy north.
I knew that David would be picking me up from the airport so I warned him in advance about all of my baggage. Luckily our conversation remained on my Samsonite without venturing down a figurative toboggan slope of past poor life choices. My bags on this particular flight were pretty massive dimensionally, but it’s usually the 50-pound weight limit that is most concerning.
I seem to always play the weight game when I fly. After watching “The Biggest Loser” tonight I think I should invest in one of corporate television’s 5-foot-wide scales.
My current home weighing method is to step on the scale, weigh myself, pick up the beastly suitcase, step back on the scale, and subtract one total from the other. If you decide to try out this technique on your next trip, here’s a hint: If you come up with a negative number, try inverting the first part of equation. My method is only as good as it’s bodybuilder’s brains.
I don’t think many baggage handlers packed on holiday pounds over the last few weeks if the general population had the same packing trend that I did. On my flight back to Savannah I even had one additional bag. You see, I had extra special cargo for the return voyage.
It’s an unofficial tradition of the Swanson gals and their mates to take some of my dad’s homegrown beef out of the freezer. We check this frozen freight in our suitcases and stock our own kitchens for next few months.
Is this plan weird? Yes.
Do we care? No.
I have a feeling you wouldn’t care either if one day you just happened to open the freezer door to find FREE steaks the size of your face just waiting to be slapped on the grill.
Today my coworker asked if I successfully brought my beef south, and I told him that my usual technique worked like a charm once again. Initially he was quite concerned that TSA would have a “no flesh” rule or that they would surely institute one after my trip. Now I think he’s just hoping I invite him over for dinner.
In 2005 a handful of my best friends and I traveled to Austria for a high school exchange program. On the trip we experienced unbelievable opportunities and the best of European luxury. We walked through Roman ruins, tested our palate on new foods, road strassenbahns and subways, hiked mountains, toured castles and saw breathtaking works of art. At the Leopold Museum in Vienna the paintings of Egon Schiele amazed some of us, disgusted a few, and left others pondering. Like so many other examples from the trip, the museum tour sparked a curiosity in me to experience more of the world, more of its people and more of their culture.
I’m thinking now of those friends who traveled with me, many on their first trip outside of the United States. I’m not sure if they had the same epiphany that I did on the trip, but their lives certainly reflect an adventurous spirit.
Allison is studying in Colorado by way of Argentina and Mexico.
Steph is also studying in Colorado but after adventures in Guatemala and Kenya.
Ryan has lived in Saudi Arabia, traveled much of South America and ventured across the pond on a few occasions.
David has returned to Austria to spend more time with his exchange family and test his snowboarding skills on the Alps.
I think it’s fair to say that in Late Autumn, 2010 we all have memories — single and shared — that leave us feeling fortunate.
A few different songs like Santa Monica by Everclear, California Girls, by Katy Perry, and A Long December by Counting Crows make me instantly miss Los Angeles. Summer in Minnesota is nice. Summer in LA is an adventure.
For years one of my coworkers at Scofields has been telling me that once she wins the lottery the two of us will go traveling. She wants to use my street/calle/rue/straße/straat smarts to see the world. The joke between us has always been that our first stop will be the delightful village featured above. I found the article on a Salon slide show titled, “10 places not to see before you die.”
Mount Rushmore, Euro Disney, and the Blarney Stone also made the list. I’m completely discounting the author’s argument. Whoever’s too good for giant stone noses, a little innocent fun, and harmless legend just doesn’t know much about living.
