WHO DAT!!

I would be remiss if I didn't make mention of the fact that my (Superbowl champions) New Orleans Saints are squaring off tonight against the San Francisco 49ers, the city I formerly (and often begrudgingly) called home.  I had to laugh at the people who actually asked who I would be rooting for.  Seriously?  Is that even a question?

Oh, I forgot to tell you what happened at last week's game!  Jenelle and I decided to forgo Bar None, as it was disgustingly crowded three hours before the game and was only going to get worse.  We decided to go to dba in Brooklyn, another Saints outpost in NYC.  My friend James (also from New Orleans) met us down there as well.  We get there and I notice a guy running around who looks really familiar.  It took a little while, but I finally realized, holy shit, that's Jack.  He used to come into a bar I worked at ten fucking years ago.  I made a mental note to say hello when I got a minute.

Next thing I know, James is next to me saying, "Hey, wanderlust, have you met Jack?"

And I said, "As a matter of fact, I have.  I used to get Jack drunk ten years ago.  Shot of Jim Beam and a Budweiser, right Jack?"

The look on his face was priceless.

Of course he remembered me and of course we had lots of catching up to do.  Turns out he moved to San Francisco for a while and hated it too!  (OK, I'm being dramatic.  I didn't HATE living in SF.  Not all the time, anyway.  I just complained a lot)  He's much happier in NY, as am I.

That's the thing about New Orleans.  Once you've lived there a little while, it doesn't matter where you go.  If there's any sort of gathering involving New Orleans in any way, be it a Saints game, a crawfish boil, or oil-spill fundraiser, you WILL run into someone you know.  You just will.  Like it or not.  I once ran into a guy I used to HATE at the Black Magic Voodoo Lounge in San Francisco.  Fortunately for all involved, he was way too drunk to remember who I was.

But it's a beautiful thing, and I love it.  Anyway, I've got to go.  I have a date with James and Jack and the rest of the Who Dat nation.  Bar None has no idea what it's in for.

GEAUX SAINTS!!

WHO DAT!!

Oh yeah baby.  It's that time of year again.  It begins tonight.

Some might say it began a few weeks ago, but I say pre-season, shmee-season.  I believe pre-season exists solely to make me paranoid about injuring our starters.  I was especially concerned about Drew, what with that whole Madden curse thing.  But I have faith in our boy.  I mean, this is the same quarterback who led us to the Superbowl.  The Saints.  To the Superbowl.  I still can't believe it...

Jenelle and I have a date tonight with the rest of the Who Dat Nation down at Bar None, a Saints stronghold in NYC.  I've heard that Vikings fans like to hang out there too, so tonight should be especially fun.  I am so excited my stomach is turning upside down.  Or maybe I'm just hungover.  Either way, I'm ready to STAND UP AND GET CRUNK!!  WHO DAT!! WE DAT!! YEAH YOU RIGHT!!

            

Happy anniversary!

Exactly four months ago today, the New Orleans Saints won the Superbowl.

Yes, we're still talking about that down here.  It's our first one.  Ever.  Forty-three fucking years.  As I've said before, we'll celebrate as long as we damn well please.  

More photos from that glorious, sacred night, which will forever remain legendary in New Orleans history:

                    

              
              

                      


Yes, that's St. Louis Cathedral flying an NFC Championship flag, and yes, that's the statue of Joan of Arc over on Decatur Street proudly displaying a Saints flag high above her head.  Why, you ask?  Because these are the SAINTS we're talking about, people.

WHO DAT!!

Long overdue

Today I marched in one of the most significant jazz funerals this city has ever seen.  We've waited a long time for this one.  Best jazz funeral ever.  Whose death were we marching for?  The 'Aint's, of course.

The coffin, in all its glory...

                
We shall wear paper bags on our heads no more.

Yes.  We're STILL celebrating the Superbowl down here.  We'll be celebrating all year.  Forty-three years we've waited, OK?  We'll celebrate as long as we damn well please.

Some of you are asking, "What's a jazz funeral?"  Allow me to explain.

Around here, we don't have funerals.  We have parties.  We don't spend the day mourning a loved one's death.  We spend a day celebrating their life.  How does New Orleans like to celebrate things?  With music and parades.  What else?

A jazz funeral starts off somewhat somber.  The band generally breaks into "A Closer Walk With Thee" as the procession leaves the starting point.  But it's not long before they start to funk things up a little bit, and the funeral party following behind starts dancing.  It looks something like this:

The whole thing ends with a big party with even more music and dancing.  That's our reaction to pretty much everything around here.  Music and dancing.  It's a pretty good life.

Who dat!

Post-game

It was happening right in front of me, and I still couldn't believe it.  A headline we've been waiting forty-three years to see...

          

People were, ahh, happy.  Especially this guy...

            

More people in the French Quarter than I had ever seen.  Bourbon and St. Ann:

            



Standing on St. Louis:

                                 


Walking down Decatur:





The whole thing was pretty fucking surreal.

Yes they did. Who dat? WE DAT!!

Passion...

Who dat said females don't like football?

    

          

          

These wonderful women were their own one-car Saints parade, rolling down Royal St. throwing piles of beads to a happy crowd.  A perfectly logical thing to do.  I mean, that's what they were doing Sunday afternoon in Indianapolis, right?  What's that?  They weren't?

Oh.  Wow.  Sucks for them...

        
WHO DAT!!

Pre-game...

The French Quarter was at its best.  The chaos of Mardi Gras is a beautiful and wonderful thing, precisely because of the disorganized chaos of a million different kinds of parties happening all at once.  This was different, and a thousand times better.  It was the jubilation of Mardi Gras, but it was like our own (public) private party.  A million people celebrating one common cause, and all wearing the same costume.  BLACK AND GOLD PATROL!!

I've never seen so many happy people in one place.  Move over, Disneyworld...

  
                                        

                        

This guy is my hero.  I can't imagine being on crutches in the French Quarter this weekend.  Actually, yes I can.  Broken knees suck.

                    

The beauty of complete strangers hugging and kissing on the street never gets old to me.  Post-game, on Frenchmen St. some guy grabbed my friend and starting screaming and hugging him.  Then they grabbed each other's arms and started jumping up and down screaming, "WHO DAT!! WHO DAT!!"

"Earl," I said, "Who was that?"

He said, "I don't know.  But I feel closer to him now..."

It was a beautiful thing.  I myself have been picked up and spun around by so many random dudes this weekend I'm still dizzy.  These two were walking past each other and started shrieking and hugging.  For no apparent reason.  Oh yeah, wait a minute.  The Saints were about to play in the Superbowl!

              

The best part is, I hadn't even been back in town for twenty-four hours yet.  What a welcome home party!

          

WHO DAT!!

I really don't have any eloquent words for you right now.  The New Orleans Saints just won the Superbowl.

HOLY SHIT!!  WHO DAT!!  YEAH YOU RIGHT!!  HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIIIITTT!!

Satan must be ice-skating to work.

Last night, this city erupted into an explosion of ecstasy we never knew was possible until now.  It was Carnival times ten, Mardi Gras jacked up on steroids and speed.  Tears of joy everywhere.  Grown men crying, complete strangers, hugging and kissing and dancing in the streets.  Everybody high-fiving everybody.  Police cars, fire trucks, flashing their lights and waving.  Brass bands spontaneously breaking out all over town.  The screaming.  I'll never forget the screaming.

It was frantic.  Screams that had been building for over forty years, finally released.  It was the most beautiful night in the history of New Orleans, in the history of HISTORY.

I really can't even talk about it right now.  It's too soon.  I haven't had time to process it yet.  I'm still in a state of semi-disbelief...

          

It's not going to sink in until after the parade tomorrow.  Then, get ready.  This is going to turn into the "All Saints, All The Time" channel for a while.  Tune in for full Superbowl aftermath coverage right here, photos and video coming soon!

WHO DAT!!

Finish Strong

Because at the end of the day, that's all that really matters.

        
            

WHO DAT!!

Shadow Shot Sunday

 New Orleans, LA 
January 3rd, 2010, about three pm

The Calm Before the Storm

            

This was just a few minutes before I got a phone call that would turn my world upside down.  Crazy day, crazy past few weeks.  Total monkey circus.  Looks like things are settling down now.

  This was also a few minutes before the Saints lost their final game of the season, finishing at 3-13.  They may have dropped their last three, but they finished strong and that's what matters.  The New Orleans Saints are going to the Superbowl.  For the first time ever.  I wish I could explain what it means to this city.  What it means to me.  I couldn't have picked a better time to move back home...

WHO DAT!!  WHO DAT!! WHO DAT SAID DEY GONNA BEAT DEM SAINTS!! WHO DAT!!  WHO DAT!!

GEAUX SAINTS!!  BLACK AND GOLD SUPERBOWL!! WHO DAT!!

                                                                                                     http://heyharriet.blogspot.com/

Storm Warning

New Orleans, LA

Hurricane Wanderlust is due to make landfall this evening.  Floods of joy are expected in the Bywater, Faubourg Marigny, French Quarter, Mid-City and Uptown neighborhoods.  It is advised to remain indoors, especially when the Saints win the Superbowl tomorrow.  Those outside their homes during this time are subject to hugging, kissing, screaming, and tears of pure, unadulterated Bliss.

But you knew that already, didn't you?

It's been a long road home.  I have driven for days.  Battled snow, sleet, torrential downpours.  Just to get Home.  To my beloved bayous and lakes and rivers.  To the magnolias and crepe myrtles.  To the Spanish moss in City Park.  To the music, the dancing, the crawfish.  To the biggest motherfucking Superbowl party this country has ever seen!

WHO DAT!!  GEAUX SAINTS!!

Oh wow.  Homeward bound.  Only a matter of hours now.  Yeah you fucking right!!

Rest stop on the road home

Onion Creek, Austin, TX


I really love Austin.  J & J are lucky.  They have all this a few blocks away from their front door:

        

        

Austin is beautiful, even in winter when the trees are bare.  The rest of the year all of this is alive, lush and green.  It's amazing.

                  

There's a cactus patch up the hill.  Great place to spend an afternoon if you have two energetic dogs in your company.

              

                

I always enjoy being here.  To me, Austin feels like the comfort of a familiar lover's bed.  Wish I could stay a little longer, but I've got to hit the road.  Stopping off in Houston to have lunch with a dear friend I haven't seen since August 2005.  Next stop, New Orleans.  There's a very important Superbowl party I have to get to.  A Black and Gold Superbowl party, to be exact.  The Saints are going to the Superbowl.  For the first time ever.  I may have mentioned it once or twice.  WHO DAT!!

Moving forward, looking back

Future looks bright and beautiful.  Anything is possible.  There are a bunch of people and places I can't wait to see in New Orleans.  The road ahead looks good...

Moving Forward

                                                                              

                                                                                Looking Back

                                                                                     

The road behind me looks pretty good too.  San Francisco was fun, overall.  California eventually grew on me, in a weird sort of way.  I look forward to visiting.  There are a bunch of people and places I was very sad to leave behind.  It was a painful exodus.  I was brooding and pouting until I hit Palo Alto.  Then I remembered that the Saints are going to the Superbowl...

WHO DAT!!

Left SF Sunday afternoon.  Drove ten hours to Needles, CA, which is at the Arizona border.  Slept, woke up, drove eight hours to Albuquerque.  Visiting a friend and resting here for two nights.  Next stop, Texas.  

Good sign

Holy shit!  Whose fucking apartment is THAT?  It's a fucking mess!  What?  MINE?  No way.  I don't even recognize it.  Where's my big, beautiful, beloved couch?  Most comfortable couch ever?  

Oh yeah.  Those guys from craigslist came and got it.

Where's that crappy table and even crappier computer desk that Justin gave me?

Oh yeah.  Jen took them the other night.

Where's... all the rest of my shit?

Oh yeah.  I brought it to Goodwill.

I'm actually feeling pretty good about this move, even though I have to leave Sunday morning and all that stuff still has to go in my car.  Feeling pretty good, because the other day when I went to the Goodwill to drop off all that shit, I got an awesome parking spot two cars behind this one:

               

See?  Everything's going to be fine.  On my way home.  Just in time for Superbowl.  Who dat!

Instant replay

That's what's been happening in my brain all week.  I keep going over it, again and again.  Can't stop thinking about it.  The Moment.  When we realized that the kick was good and we were going to the Superbowl.  The screams of pure unadulterated joy, blended with a double shot of disbelief.  Everyone grabbing everyone else, friends, strangers, didn't matter.  Hugging, kissing, crying, everyone screaming,

"Holy shit!  Holy shit!  Holy shit holy shit HOLY SHIT!!"

The waves of joy keep washing over me like a fucking tsunami.  This feeling, it's completely brand new to us.  The feeling of knowing that your team, YOUR TEAM, is going to the Superbowl.  Completely uncharted territory for each and every one of us.  It's great.  I like it.  I want more.

I'm not going to try to explain how deep the connection is between this city and this football team.  There have been so many articles about that floating around ESPN.com, NFL.com, etc. that it's exhausting.  If you're reading this and you're from South Louisiana, there's nothing to explain.

It's an unforgettable feeling, this moment we're all in right now.  Ten more days to ride this wave, Who Dats.  Hang on and enjoy the ride!  WHO DAT SAID DEY GONNA BEAT DEM SAINTS!! WHO DAT!! WHO DAT!!

Loudest venue in the NFL

But we already knew that.  Remember 119 decibals?

Saints fans are loud.  Really loud.  Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you the Black Magic Voodoo Lounge in San Francisco after the Saints scored their first touchdown in yesterday's glorious win:




Yeah. Saints fans are loud. WHO DAT!!

WHO DAT!!

We got our Christmas wish!  It's gonna be a Black and Gold Superbowl!  Yeah you right!!

Holy shit.  Un-fucking-believable.  Forty-two years New Orleans has waited, suffered.  I myself spent many a painful afternoon in the Dome, enduring crushing loss after crushing loss.  Four long years I held season tickets.  Never made the playoffs once in those four years.  Never even came close.  I was, however, at that magical playoff game in 2001, when the Saints had their first ever playoff win.  That was the craziest I've seen the Dome in all my years as a who dat.  Last night?  I can't even imagine.

What a fucking game.  I really thought they were trying to kill Brett Favre for a minute there.

Here in San Francisco, the Black Magic Voodoo Lounge was like I'd never seen it before.  We screamed.  We yelled.  We hugged.  We kissed.  We cried.  We danced.  Oh, did we dance.  But you had probably guessed that already, huh?  We're from New Orleans.  Dancing is what we do.  We can't help ourselves.

I can't stop watching this video.  It brings tears to my eyes every time.  Especially when they start second lining down the street, about a minute and a half in.

Saints Video: Bourbon Street

  The headline to the article said that the celebration in the French Quarter was "like Mardi Gras on Red Bull."  Oh, how I wish I could have been there!

But I'm leaving San Francisco.  Moving home.  Just in time.  I drive out on the 31st.  I'll be home for the Black and Gold Superbowl.  I will be in my beloved city on the most important day in her recent history.  Yeah you right!

  

Still got it.  Never lost it.  WHO DAT!!