I Remember...The ALAMO!!

It’s my first night in Savannah.  I flew down to see my buddies Z and Jean-Luc for St. Paddy’s weekend.  It was a bittersweet vacation; right before I left, I was informed by my boss that I was getting laid off.  Nothing like finding out you no longer have a job when you are about to go on vacation and waste money!  Even knowing that, I still decided to splurge, and, in hindsight, I am glad I did.  It was one of the best trips of my life.

Now, I always make an impression my first day in unfamiliar territory, and this was no exception.  We started off the afternoon by drinking beers and playing on Jean Luc’s slip-n-slide, which was 50 ft. long and homemade.  After getting bored of this after few hours, we went out to the pier near Z’s house.  6 beers deep, I went swimming.  Instead of staying shallow where the buoys are, I swam way out- like ½ mile out.  Z was actually worried because there were big waves that kept knocking me around and into the buoys.  This experience sobered me up a little bit.  I kept drinking, though.  After swimming, we went downtown.

I lost my license somewhere in downtown Savannah that first night in my drunken stupor.  I ended the night passed out in a plate of mozzarella sticks at a diner.  Every five minutes or so I would wake up, shovel a few sticks in my mouth, then pass out again.  Z and Jean-Luc finished my sticks for me- which pissed me off.  I kept yelling at them the rest of the night, and the week, for eating my food.  I insisted was gonna finish it myself- which I would have, if we were allowed to stay there another 3 hours.  

Jean-Luc would not let me in his car in my present condition, so they made me pull the trigger before I got in the car.  Like sex… and going to your first baseball game, you always remember the first time you pull the trigger.  On the drive home, I was passed out in the backseat.  Apparently, Jean-Luc picked up 2 hippy hitchhikers on the way home.  They sat in back with me, which I don’t remember.  They actually thought I was dead, and kept asking Z and Jean-Luc if I was alright.  I wasn’t, although that fact had nothing to do with the fact I was drunk; I was born that way.  The rest of the week was just as much of a drunken haze. 

Downtown Savannah is the place to be for St. Pats.  They die the river green and close down the streets for the festivities.  I was psyched for this trip.  I had booked a very expensive Jacuzzi room at a real Ritzy Hotel downtown.  The price tag ran $300 per night. 

The next day, Z and I got up early and drove the hour trip to Savannah so we could check into the hotel, change, then go downtown to party.  Unfortunately, Jean-Luc had to work all 3 days that weekend.  He never even showed up to Savannah; so it was just us two.  When we got to the hotel, to our great disappointment, the clerk gave us the key to a room that did not have a Jacuzzi.  I was not gonna pay $900 for 3 nights in a regular hotel room.  I told them to give me a Jacuzzi room; but they said everything else was sold out. After 20 minutes of arguing they agreed to give me a partial refund.  I still had to pay $300 but at least I saved a little bit of money. 

Now with nowhere to stay, me and Z drove around Savannah looking for a hotel with vacancy.  We had no idea how hard this mission would be.  Finding a hotel with vacancy the Thursday of St. Patrick’s Day Weekend in Savannah, GA is like trying to find an empty seat in Fenway or a Yankee game.  After about an hour and a half of looking, we finally found a hotel with the vacancy sign lit.  The name of it was the Alamo Inn.  It looked like a dump.  There were very shady looking people walking around in front of it;  many scantily clad women were pacing up and down the street corner right near where we had to turn in, Since we weren’t exactly in any condition to be picky, we overlooked these little problems.  After we parked the car, I ran inside to get the room while Z stayed in the car.  He understandably did not want to leave it unattended in the part of town we found ourselves in. 

I was very psyched when I found out that the room was dirt cheap- only around $40 per night.  After the money I wasted at the last place; especially considering that I no longer had a job, I needed to save all the money I could.  I checked in, then grabbed the key and ran back to Z’s car.  I really did run back, as I did not wanna get mugged by the creepy looking characters walking ever so close to the car.  I did notice that my room key was just that- a key.  It was not a card, like every other hotel in existence has used since the 1990’s.  I thought it was weird, but I let it go.  It turns out, the key was the fanciest part about the room.

We went downtown and partied like rock stars.  We met up with some of Z’s friends somewhere along the way.  Don’t remember anything spectacular about this night except for the fact that the ATM charged me $5 to take money out….$5!!!- and this was in 2001!  I didn’t let this bother me too much and had a great time that night.

When we got to our room, Z and I instantly realized why the hotel room was so cheap.  It was a dump!  The wallpaper was very old, like from the 70’s.  Worse, there were blood and snot stains all over it.  There were, I swear, what looked like bullet-holes in the wall.  Not just one, but a few.  The sheets were old, too.  They looked like they hadn’t been changed in like 20 years.  While no doubt originally white; they had yellowed severely and looked disgusting.  The electrical and TV wires for the room were taped to the ceiling with duct tape.  Not stapled, but taped! 

Oh, it gets worse! 
 

I remember...THE ALAMO!

The doorway leading into the bathroom was uneven.  It was slanted down; real weird-like, if closed, the bathroom door would only cover part of the doorway.  You could seriously look over the door and see inside the bathroom.  Inside the bathroom was even worse, if that’s possible.  The toilet seat was broken.  One half sat on the toilet, connected like it was supposed to be; the other half laid on the ground.  “Wow!” is all I could muster to say.  Well, you get what you pay for I guess.  We should have known better than to rent a hotel that charges by the hour. 

We wanted to get out of there as soon as possible, but I needed to go to the bathroom.  Z needed to use the phone to call his friends, who were supposed to meet us.  I emptied my bladder, being careful not to touch anything.  When I went to wash my hands, I noticed that the little bar of soap on the sink was from a Holiday Inn.  They had actually stolen soap from a Holiday Inn to use in their hotel.  When I got out of the bathroom, Z called me over to look at the phone.  I walked over and saw that, much like the soap, the phone was stolen.  It said DAYS INN Raleigh, NC on it.  Someone had ripped off a hotel phone from a Days Inn 300 miles away to put in this hotel room.  

This was enough for us.  We decided to not spend anymore time in this room than was absolutely necessary.  We crashed, in the room.  We slept above the covers, as we didn’t want to touch anything we didn’t have to.  Needless to say, it was a restless night.  The next morning, bright and early, we woke up and got in Z’s car; downtown was our destination.  On the way out of the hotel, we saw three hookers standing out by the entrance.  Well, I guess that explains why they had an hourly rate posted on the sign.

Once we got downtown, it was amazing.  The streets were all blocked off and everyone was walking around, drinking.  Cops were around, but they didn’t care; they were laughing and having a good time, too.  The streets were packed!  George Killian even showed up.  He made an appearance at a bar.  I waited in line and got his autograph.  I actually told him “I made you a millionaire myself”, which is probably true.  I used to drink Killian’s Irish Red beer all the time.  One of the bars we went to that day actually had a Ms. Pacman console video game.  Despite the fact that there was some drunk guy passed out on top of it, I still managed to play a few games.  Another thing I remember about that bar is it had the most disgusting bathroom I have ever seen.  There was literally shit all over the walls.  I am not the most hygienic person in the world and even I could not stand it, so we left.  After barhopping for a bit, we met up with three of Z’s female friends, and all of us spent the rest of the day together.

Z had slept with one of the girls back in the day, which meant he was going to try and sleep with her again, even if it was in a hotel with cockroaches the size of crabs (no joke, they really were!).  Sure enough, we got back to the hotel and Z kicked me out of the room I paid for so he could mack it.  I hung out in the room that the girls’ had rented for an hour or so, then headed back to my room, thinking that was enough time for Z to get a quickie.  I walked into the room, and immediately passed out on the bed.  Z and the chick were laying on it together, but I    didn’t care, I was tired.

It was not until the next morning after I woke up that I found out Z had fucked that girl in the bed while I was sleeping next to them.  That is, sadly, the most action I got all vacation. The amazing part is that they did not wake me up.  I know what a stallion Z is in the sack, as I used to room with him in college and have seen him screw many girls.  How I remained sleeping when he was issuing a Roman War Helmet or maybe even a Cosby Sweater, amazed me. The funniest part, though, was that at no point during the night had anyone drawn the sheets back in the bed. I slept, and they banged, on top of the sheets.  That shows how nasty they were.

Me with my True Love - Ms. Pacman

The next, and last, day was more of the same.  The three girls left; me and Z were left by ourselves again. We were not alone for long, however.  Z had 6 of his grad school friends in town.  We met up with them and just got retarded.  I remember at one point buying a turkey leg from one of those food carts.  Z and I were so hungry that we literally started ripping the meat off the turkey leg with our teeth, not even using our fingers.  We were like Vikings eating the spoils of our raid.  We ate the whole turkey leg like with no hands; we just ripped more flesh off the leg whenever we were out of meat.  Every once in awhile we would look around at everyone staring at us, wondering what their problem was. 

The George Killian pic I had autographed

Very drunk and with a full belly, we had a few more drinks and then all eight of us went back to the hotel.  All the rooms were booked this night, so we all spent the night in our room…all 8 of us.  We had:  3 people on the bed, 4 on the floor and 1 in the bathtub, that’s how we spent the night.  Nobody showered the next morning, because no one wanted to go into the bathroom.  Everyone even pissed outside- even the girls.  It was a truly memorable weekend.  Z drove me to airport next afternoon. 

I flew home only to find out I had left my car interior light on.  After 3 hours and 5 calls to AAA, I finally got my car started.  Downtown Newark is not a place you want to be after daylight ends.  At one point I was walking around, just to kill time.  I remember walking with my head down on the sidewalk, thinking about what a weekend I had.  I looked up to find an enormous Rottweiler- unchained, walking down the sidewalk directly across street from me.  It was scary, this thing could have really hurt me.  No joke, it was at least 150 pounds, fat as hell.  Luckily, it ignored me.  

 I went home, went to work the next day and ended up getting laid off later that week.  This trip is truly the only thing fondly I remember about my first job out of college, USF Redstar.