It’s just after midnight on West River Street.
A slender young woman totters over the cobblestones in platform wedges. She has her head down, a cellphone pressed against her right ear. She pulls her long hair back with her left hand, and without warning, vomits twice, narrowly missing two guys sitting on the curb as they drink from to-go cups of beer.
The cellphone never leaves the woman’s ear. She wobbles forward. The two guys check. They are splatter-free. They share a laugh and resume their drinking.
Welcome to the final hours of St. Patrick’s Day 2013 in Savannah.
The annual morning parade may be a celebration of family and all things Irish, but the night is more like a roving keg party, a celebration of excess.
“It morphs throughout the day, and you’re constantly trying to adjust,” said Jim Downs, the new executive director of the Savannah Waterfront Association.
Downs was evaluating as a first-time St. Patrick’s Day participant. All around him, though, were city employees who, through years of practice, have a wearied expertise at moving the big crowds, keeping the party under control and restoring order and cleanliness to streets and squares before the next morning ends.
This year, the combination of a Saturday parade and warmer weather helped swell the crowds, police and city officials say.
The crowds were big on River Street, but not quite as packed as years past. City officials say expanding the festival zone farther south to Broughton Lane gave party-goers more room to spread out. That helps people not get so irritated with each other, said Capt. Philip Reilley, who led the City Market command post.
“Overall, everybody seemed to have a good time,” he said. “There were a lot of well-behaved people. Most of the work was just people falling down hurting themselves.”
It was a friendly crowd. Many, even some lurching they were so drunk, still remembered an “Excuse me” as they passed.
As one man stumbled toward Franklin Square, a bystander cautioned him to put away the dollar bills wadded in one hand.
“Oh, I have more,” he said, then pulled out folded hundred-dollar bills. “I have six hundreds,” he said, and held it out, clearly unconcerned that anyone might snatch it.
There were more than a few who found trouble.
By 1:45 a.m., officers had arrested 26 people in City Market and 39 on River Street, including a man caught urinating from a pedestrian walkway on Factors’ Walk onto the cobblestones below near City Hall as people and police passed by.
By 2 a.m., Reilley had four more in City Market under arrest after a fight. Three were pepper-sprayed before order was restored.
As 3 a.m. neared — closing time for the bars — dozens of people began gathering at Sweet Melissa’s, the restaurant at Whitaker and Congress streets known for its jumbo-sized pizzas and its late hours.
One woman stood in the middle of Whitaker, twirling a neon-lit hula hoop around her waist as pedestrians ambled south for taxi stands or headed west for Ellis Square.
Clyde Davis kept his head down and his eyes on his work as the green-clad throngs passed. He works at Sweet Melissa’s but tries to keep the whole intersection clean. He swept and dumped his dustbin at a steady pace.
“I’m trying to stay ahead,” he said. “If I was to let it go and wait until 3:30, it would be a real disaster.”
He thinks this year might be a little slower than last.
“Last year was crazy,” he said. “I saw seven or eight fights. This year, only about three.”
Shortly after offering that assessment, four mounted patrol officers moved in to disperse the gathering crowd. Sweet Melissa’s had planned to stay open until 4 a.m., but city officials, citing public safety concerns, asked them to close 30 minutes early.
While the four horses tamed the Congress Street crowd, “the big push” was beginning on River Street.
Police officers on foot lined up across the roadway, backed by double columns of patrol cars with blue lights flashing. They eased down from the west end, corralling the stalwarts who lingered.
A sergeant barked at stragglers, using his radio as a P.A. system.
“You! In the kilt — it’s time to go,” he commanded, then to the crowd in general offered this advice: “Go home. Go to the Waffle House. Go anywhere but River Street.”
As the patrol cars rolled toward the east, sanitation crews were close behind. About three dozen sanitation workers, eight in street sweepers, were on hand to clean from Gaston Street north to River.
“We’ll have four crews at either end,” said Gene Prevatt, the director of sanitation. “The plan of attack is to start at both ends and work toward the middle going north to south.”
Last year, crews finished on River Street at 11 a.m. Prevatt hoped for an earlier end this year. Like many other city employees, he had slept about three hours in the last 48.
Earlier in the night, a police officer watching revelers head toward River Street offered a confession of sorts.
After a few years, it gets old quick.
“I don’t want to do it anymore,” he said. “But nothing short of death will do (as an excuse). Even then, they’re going to open the casket to check.”