Honey, I’m not going to lie. I walked into my hotel suite with a limp wrist, a half-drunk glass of Pinot and fully possessed by the living spirit of NeNe Leakes. I’m on my way up. Savannah has that effect on me. I find everything here so incredibly lovely. Doors are held open, seemingly everyone is smiling and alcohol is readily available (except Sunday mornings when the wine is for Jesus only).