In most parts of the country, they have “beer gardens”— special penned-off outdoor locations where those 21-years and older are free to imbibe. But that “freedom” comes with a price. Cordoned to a 20 x 20-foot fenced-in space in the middle of an otherwise free-wheeling festival, you’re given a bracelet and a Solo cup harboring a sub-par beer. And as you sip said beer among the folks whose only unifying principle is that you all want the beer you’ve been old enough to drink for two decades, you look longingly to those outside the pen, where people are allowed to wander freely and you wonder if beer is really worth virtual imprisonment, eventually dumping it out and opting for a dry festival over one where you’re relegated to second-class status in a “garden” of overgrown grass only a herd of grazing cattle could appreciate.
But not in Savannah.
In the Hostess City, a Solo cup opens the doors to the outside world—which feels a bit like walking through Heaven’s Gate if you hail from a beer-garden city like me.
I was at Moon River Brewing Company the first time I got “to go” drink in Savannah. As I crossed the threshold with my bitter yet fruitful Wild Wacky Wit, I looked over my shoulder, expecting someone to tackle me from behind and knock the cup from my hand. But no one did. All I saw was a look I’ve come to recognize as amusement on the faces of Savannahians who know how delightful this experience is for visitors.
As I turned the corner, I came nose-to-nose with a police officer and instinctively shielded my still-frothy Belgian brew. I held my breath, thinking in the back of my mind that maybe this drinks to-go thing was a trick the locals played on Savannah newcomers.
But he just scooted around me and suddenly I was like that freshly licensed kid who swings his keys on his finger, or the newly engaged who conspicuously holds her ring by her face for all to see, peacocking down Bay Street in downtown Savannah with my beer in hand. Even though I was nearly 30, I felt legit.
Guide to Savannah Public Drinking
Live here long enough and you begin to take the gift of the to-go cup for granted, forgetting that there are some essential geographical limitations. Savannah's city ordinance does not allow to-go cups south of Jones Street, roughly east of East Broad Street and roughly west of West Boundary Street. This means no open containers in Forsyth Park except during special events. But in bar terms, that means Crystal Beer Parlor to the west, Liberty Street Grill to the east, and The Public Kitchen and Bar to the south are free reign. River Street to the north and its bevy of bars like Fiddler’s Crab House and The Warehouse Bar and Grille is basically your oyster.
But this isn’t time to break out the portable goat sack or the LED conch-shell shaped cup you got in Vegas. All open containers in downtown Savannah must be 16 oz. or less.
Time-Honored Traditions
I don’t know why most other cities don’t offer their drinks to go, or maybe a better question is, why does Savannah?
I’ve given this some thought—probably more than I should. Maybe it’s as simple as Savannahians like to have a good time on their terms. Or maybe it’s because Southerners are very protective of things, like their traditions, rights, guns, religion … and drink. Or maybe it’s the application of the principle, “leave no man behind.” Because to Savannahians, a stranded beer is a downright shame.
At various times the city has entertained expanding or tightening the to-go cup ordinance. But I’m not willing to go back to the confines of my past any time soon. In the words of Charlton Heston, if you want my Solo cup, you’ll have to pry it from my cold, dead hands.