Friday, I lounged around.
It rained and rained and rained.
Evacuation orders were issued for Savannah and Chatham County.
Vickie wanted out, so she left for Tennessee where her brother resided.
Now, it would be the NYC couple, Janeen, and me (in the Anderson house).
Janeen debated on taking off too, but we convinced her to stay.
She had not been feeling that well, so she recovered in her room and caught up on SCAD homework.
I caught glimpses of her over the coming days.
Instead, I spent more time with the New Yorkers.
We talked about everything from our families to big city living to airbnbs to traveling to food.
Not much more to say about Friday.
With everything closed, and I do mean everything, I made an interesting brunch.
Instant grits with milk.
The house guests laughed at my efforts.
The instant grits with extra salt and whole milk were not that bad.
Later, I wrote in my journal and napped.
Rain makes napping easy.
Downstairs, Janeen and the New Yorkers made pasta with chicken; they even saved me a bowl.
Call it the Hurricane Matthew blue plate special.
When most of the house was allegedly asleep, the wind and the rain picked up speed.
I kept hearing loud cracks and strange noises and wondered how my motorcycle was holding up.
At 5 a.m. on Saturday morning, I was wide awake.
I walked downstairs to see if I could check on the bike from inside the house.
From one of the three bathrooms, I could see the bike was fine. The wind had knocked the borrowed cover off, but that was it.
Strong wind gusts and rain prevented me from running outside to place the cover back on the bike, so I fell back asleep.
This time, I awoke at a more reasonable hour: 8 a.m.
The rain had settled down, so I walked outside to address the bike and cover situation; then, I walked inside to boil some water for a delicious cup of French Press coffee.
My favorite New Yorkers got up, and we chatted some more. This time, our conversation centered around the storm.
Because of the location of their room, they had front and center view of Hurricane Matthew.
We had no television in the house, so we really had to rely on each other and our family/friends for any news.
I was becoming a little stir crazy, so I showered and headed outside to take pictures of the damage and to get some fresh air.
Before leaving, I received a call from my best friend from college, Jim, regarding my upcoming visit to St. Augustine.
As far as he was concerned, my Tuesday or Wednesday visit was a go!
His area was devastated by the storm surge, but Jim and his wife were fine; his house was fine.
I went outside to assess the Hurricane Matthew damage.
A Latino-looking 20-something drove around the block with windows down playing Georgia on My Mind from his car stereo.
It struck a chord: a chord of melancholy.
When I returned, I headed out with the New Yorkers looking for a place to eat.
Trying to find real food -- not breakfast -- in Savannah was tough.
We ended up at the Hyatt.
Airbnb clients at a hotel?
During a hurricane, yes!
The hotel offered a buffet which consisted of fried chicken, mac and cheese, she crab soup, corn, and other fixings.
I would not call it high brow; I would not call it fabulous, but it offered more protein than grits.
We left the Hyatt right around curfew time (7 p.m.) and ended up at another airbnb house where J- and D- were located.
A SCAD student who was dating D- was also there.
We received a tour of the gorgeous three-story home and lounged around with them for hours.
Six adults discussing everything from what it was like to be a male stripper (two in the room were!) to being an airbnb host to being a hippie with cash flow.
We did not leave until nearly 2 a.m.
I walked up to my tiny room and fell fast asleep.
Until we meet again, my friend.