Settling in Savannah
April 23, 2016
Dear Anthony,
I’m settling in alright down here. Right around the corner from the hotel I stayed in is a small Irish bar called O’Hanlon’s Pub. It served as my home office for those first few blurry days on the ground here. The fellas behind the stick were so amused by my impulsive act they agreed to let me work a couple of shifts a week and fill in. Do you remember Biddy’s in the upper East Side? O’Hanlon’s feels much the same way. All the bartenders are either just arrived from Ireland or one step removed. Anyway, they’ve been a great help and have introduced me to a bunch of people. I meet new faces every shift I work. Savannah is a nice town. You have to come down for a visit. The people here are friendly and full of advice. Too much sometimes. Remember how Ford would talk about his stint down in Hilton Head, where every day was filled with sun, golf, and easy money. It was his reward for putting up with the grind of Manhattan’s volume shifts. Savannah is nothing like Hilton Head. These people DRINK. No matter whether it’s a Tuesday lunch or half past midnight on a Sunday. Savannahians(sp?) are always on the prowl for food, drink, and talk. I like it though. There is enough action to keep me moving.
The hotel living was nice but way too expensive. Luckily, a regular put me in contact with a lady desperate to find tenants. My apartment sits atop a four story boarding house for Moravian mariners. Apparently they aren’t as common as they once were in this part of the world. The lady who owns the place, Ms. Stevenson, signed me to a lease through the summer. The apartment has some nice views and is partially furnished, but I still need you and Dave to send down a few things from my apartment. Like my comforter and the rest of my wardrobe. I’ve already told Dave this but Don’t Use My Apartment as a Frat House. Also, DON’T LEAVE OLLIE ALONE IN MY APARTMENT!!! I don’t want my Son turning my respectable one bedroom into a Tijuana whorehouse. Do Not Let Ollie Cook in my Kitchenette. I can’t have his spicy, simmering meat stews casting it’s scent all over my one bedroom. I Need My Deposit Back. I’m going to use it as part of my stake money in the bar. Which reminds me I need to get a business proposal cranked out. Tell Dave I’ll be sending both of you a copy to look over before I show the Greek and his investors. Also I gotta figure out a name for the bar. Damn I got a lot of work to do. We’ll be in touch.
XOXO
