I debated with myself for days before finally deciding to go with Kristin to Savannah for St. Patrick's Day. If I've learned anything from my economics class, it's the term "opportunity cost"--what the decision to go to Savannah would cost me. The opportunity costs of missing my economics class: the knowledge I would have obtained, of course, maybe some interaction with that cute guy who sits a couple seats down ... and 30 points. Would a trip to Savannah be worth it?

Yes.

Kristin and the other girls left Friday morning. I, on the other hand, had to go to work to finish some business before I could leave. I made my escape at 3pm, arriving at 10pm. A seven hour drive for what should have been a four hour drive. I got into town, exhausted, jumped in the backseat to change, and called Kristin.
"I'm too drunk to give you directions ... but I'm at a club called 309 West. Ask someone where it is and come find me!"

It took me half an hour to find the club and another half hour to get through the line to get in. Meanwhile, Kristin, in her drunken state, is calling me every two minutes and screaming, half-frantic, "Where are you? Come find me!"

By the time I did finally find her, I found her surrounded by seven handsome Marines. Apparently these guys were the only ones who stood up for her when another guy at the club threw a beer bottle at her when she rejected his advances. After Kristin had made out with two of the Marines, I said to myself, what the hell? I'm drunk enough, and began making out with the one who had been at my hip most of the evening.

We then met up with Kristin's friend, Jack, who had been separated earlier in the evening, and the three of us headed back to the hotel room. There was no room in the beds so the three of us curled up together on the floor. Jack, who I had spoken maybe four words to total, was spooning me instantly--I didn't mind too much because the room was cold.

I did have a problem though when I woke up to kissing and biting on the back of my neck. He was attractive and all, but how strange for him to be like this so soon after we had met. I leaned over and made something up, "Umm, I'm not doing this while Kristin is laying right there." And to my relief, he stopped.

The next day, Kristin and I began our contest: who could make out with the most guys that weekend? Yes, it was trashy, but appropriate for a weekend of drunkenness. Kristin was ahead 5-1 already (I would not count the 3am unwelcomed "necking").

That night, we went to the club, already feeling fine from drinking all day long ... so I made out with the first guy I danced with, knowing only that his name was Brandon. I couldn't shake the dirty feeling afterwards, so I began to think this contest wasn't for me.

Kristin wasn't having any luck either. When the clubs shut down and people began to flood the streets of Savannah, Kristin and I expressed our frustration at our lack of handosme men that evening. We were about to give up when we arrived at our hotel and there was one standing at the corner.

Kristin had not made out with anyone yet that day, so I stepped aside and let her do her thing.

Meanwhile, I assumed his previous position on the corner, and it was not long before I was approached by my own handsome man. 23, Army, sweet, smart. We talked for quite a while. He asked me to go back to his hotel room and hang out with him and his friends, but it was almost 3am and I had to be up by 5am to move my car, so I would go back to Atlanta since I had to be up anyway.

He walked me back to my hotel room where Kristin had already gone, and we kissed. Only, with this guy, it was not quite so vile.

Behind me, Kristin was cheering me on ...