It was around midnight when we spilled off the regional jet at the Savannah airport. I'm not sure why going to the Georgia coast in July seemed like a good idea. The three feet between the airplane door and the air conditioned jetway said, "Go home."
At most airports the mix of jet fuel, jet exhaust, and late passenger desperation combine to make their own potent cocktail. In Savannah, they didn't stand a chance against the dank scent of plant decay and swamp air laden with moisture so think your luggage gets we just because you carry it.
It was the end of a long day in the air and on the ground. 14 hours after checking in at SEA, I had my bag back in SAV and trundled out to the rental car.
The day started with a 2.5 hour weather delay in Seattle because of storms in Dallas. When I finally made it to the overcrowded, low ceilinged labyrinth that is the Dallas airport, I got my fist piece of good news -- the connection was delayed. But they didn't seem to know where to put it. Thus, I completed my triathlon training dragging carry on luggage to a different B-Gate every 5 minutes. A lunch of Twix and juice would have to be enough. And it would undo my triathlon training.
But eventually I did make it into the moist city of Savannah. Cars were strewn about the hotel parking lot, popped up on random curbs as people sought anyplace they could find to stash their car. All the locals checked in to the hotel because of a blackout. But the hotel honored my reservation, and at 1:00 AM, that's all I can ask. They gave me the weirdest hotel room I've ever had, but that's a tale for another day.
So there's not much point to this post, other than to point out Savannah is wet even when it doesn't rain, and to play with language a bit. I imagine I'll have a much more favorable opinion of the town after a few hours sleep.