Saintsiated, But For A Short Time Only
The kids and I went with Chef Who Dat and his family to the airport on Monday to cheer for the Saints players and coaches when they arrived home. The crowds were estimated to be 10,000. We cheered loudest when Sean Payton lifted the Lombardi Trophy through his sun roof. We had to tell Gilgamesh at one point to quit banging on Tom Benson's car in fear that ticket prices would jump too high. Chef and I yelled at Garret Hartley "I don't want you thinking about anything but hitting that Fleur du Fu#king Lis." In contrast, I read that 11 fans greeted the Colts players home to Indianapolis. As always, very glad I live in New Orleans. Then yesterday we went to Lee Circle to join Chef, Howie, and other friends for what is being heralded as the greatest parade in the history of New Orleans. There were many memorable moments, seeing the Saints players and coaches in all the signature floats. I hope my children will remember these joyous times later in their lives. It's impossible to describe just how much the accomplishments of this team have meant to the city.
But alas, after all of this, I am ashamed to admit that I've had enough of things Black and WhoDat Gold for a while. We're not going to any parades tonight. I fully acknowledge that I will be doing my best to acquire a Muses shoe decorated to honor the Saints on Thursday night. And I am looking forward to Drew Brees as king of Bachus on Sunday. Moreover, my tattoo brother Marc and blood brother Patrick are coming to town for Mardi Gras. If I can stay out of jail, it just might be the most memorable Mardi Gras ever.