Chef Where Dat
My good friend and colleague, Chef Who Dat, found out yesterday that his Saints' seats are being eliminated to move the press box up to make room for more suites. Shoot! At the dome I often visit Chef and his section 641, called "The Cafe," as the group's enthusiasm, comradery, and general fan zaniness are second to none. Who has witnessed the triple, or even quintuple dirty dog and not been changed forever? Who has read one of his menus and not smiled? Who has opened the can of whoop ass with the golden can opener and not been in awe? No one, that's who. So to all of the great fans in what used to be Cafe 641, here's hoping you can manage to find a way into section 327, and bring your mojo with you. We can't do the Roofbanger's Creed, but all of your other prayers will work fine.
Here's a pic from last season, right before the first playoff game against the Cardinals, that Kalyspo and I took with Chef Who Dat and his lovely marathon vet wife Jenny.
Update: Mr Clio has a brilliant solution for the resurrection of Cafe 641.