Dear Savannah, I win.

In what has become a Life and Joy Intrude series, I went to Savannah again for St. Patrick's Day. Behind Boston, Savannah ranks as the second biggest St. Patrick's Day celebration in America. I know they do have a large Irish population and the Savannah River is naturally green, but other than that, I have no idea as to why this could possibly be.

It was a last minute trip and a lot of details weren't ironed out (read: I had no idea who we were staying with). I drove using the most colorful directions ever: "Go over bridge. Turn right at blinking light between two trees." There you will meet Guy in Yellow Coat. You will provide the secret code, My bags are loaded with sanguine pleasures, and he will then take you where you need to go.

I still protest that the street was lined with trees, but there was indeed a driveway after a blinking yellow light. We gasped at the sight of the house, which was about the size of a hotel. In the fashion of true Southern hospitality, our hosts had a Honey Baked ham and a variety of breads and cheeses for our late night snack. Afterwards, we watched a movie in their private movie theatre.

Anyway, pictures!

The next morning, we saw the view from our bedroom:

(Click for big.
You should know this by now.)

We were on the river. Hmm, that driving-over-bridge part all of a sudden makes sense.

Our hosts fed us breakfast and loaded us up with a case of beer to take to the parade. The beer didn't even last long enough for us to get downtown. The boy's family that we were staying with had went down the night before and roped off a spot on the parade line, giving us an awesome view of the parade:




In the highlight of the parade, the Budweiser Clydesdales made quite an appearance. Last time I went in 2003, the trailer drove by with the door open so you could see the Clydesdales inside. This year, they walked:



And now for my favorite photo of the trip:

It's customary to wear obnoxious colored lipstick and run out and kiss the parade members.

2003:

2007:

What is supposed to happen is that the boys aren't allowed to react to you. They have to keep looking forward and keep marching (kissing a moving object while drunk does make things a little tricky). However this year we hit up a group of firefighters, who do not have to follow the military decorum. Instead I got Gropey McHandsey who not only stopped and grabbed me, but moved his head and stole the kiss.

Firefighters. Puh.

And now for me as a brunette:


After the parade, we made our way onto River Street where the drinking continued:

Click to read his hat. I love it.

I really think the Drink Responsibly wristbands make the photo.

Then a barge made it's way down the river. It was quite a startling image:


There was one more performance:


We're a classy bunch.