I can't really describe the happiness and insanity here in New Orleans following the Saint's Superbowl win. I have to quote Wynton Marsalis, who put it best when he said, "It's like waiting 43 years to hear somebody say 'I love you' back, and they do."
As the seconds ticked off the clock New Orleans erupted: you could hear a roar rising over the city. We ran out of the house to the craziness on Maple street and hugged strangers. Our neighbors threw their furniture onto the street and set it on fire (college kids!). Our guests cried. My husband lost his voice.
We ended up heading downtown with our friend Rena, one of David's childhood friends displaced by Katrina, who actually flew to New Orleans from DC in a snowstorm to watch the game in NOLA. We squeezed onto Bourbon street and took an obligatory photo:
But really the most fun was on Poydras, where bumper to bumper traffic blared the "Crunk" song and everyone hung out their windows giving high fives or sat on the hood of their cars screaming. We rolled in after midnight and I think we might have been the first New Orleanians in bed that night (I had work at 8 am though...although quite a few people took Monday off and many of the schools here closed).
This Saints team brought so much camaraderie to New Orleans. If you're in New Orleans right now, you have thousands of friends close by, I promise you. If you want proof go open your front door and shout "Who Dat" and I bet you hear a "NOBODY!" from down the street. What a weekend: we united behind our team and we united behind our government (oh yeah, we elected a mayor outright, without a run-off, this weekend).
And I caught a miserable cold Sunday night running around jacket-less and now I'm sick in bed. It was so worth it, though.
Who dat say dey gonna beat dem Saints?!