the first real curveball
 The first real curveball of our trip was when we rolled into Savannah about one in the afternoon.
We had booked a room via the internet at the Economy Inn, in the historic district. For some reason, despite the name, I thought the hotel had to have a minimum standard of cleanliness and comfort since it was on hotels.com, and I figured any lodging in the "historic district," must be surrounded by charming shops and historied attractions.
But me, Rachel and Mariel were totally aghast when we saw the facilities for which we had given up credit card numbers. I can describe its general feel and quality in two words: prision block.
The Economy Inn was a two story, cinderblock bunker, across the from the local greyhound station, in what was obviously the worst part of town. All the indiginous people were sporting bottles in crumpled brown bags, and ambled listlessly, with slack-jawed expressions and questionable intentions.
This so- called hotel was painted a lurid combination of institutional green and milk of magnesia pink. It had no discernable windows whatsoever and its doors were austere and featureless, steel slabs.
I began to imagine what it would be like checking into the Economy Inn; snuggling under the covers of the bed, stepping into the moist shower stall; swishing my toothpaste out with its tap-water. I realized at this point that the quality of this hotels' amenities was the least of its pitfalls.
But rather it was the unimaginable activities of its recent lodgers that brought upon me the full horror of this place.
Rachel and I came to the same conclustion at about the same time: we're not staying here.
8:36:57 PM 
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