Reflections of NOLA

Posted by Iroquois Plisken

As it is SPRING BREAK (insert glass shattering / someone socking a random in the jaw) time at my revered trade school, the crew and I ventured to New Orleans for the first time (my first time, anyhow). Recollections and pictures to be posted upon my return to the Internet (I'm sending this from my mobile device).

But, during the stupor of a recovery meal, I found myself with a nearly overwhelming sense of what the Super Bowl has meant to the city of New Orleans. You see all of these little mom-and-pop establishments who have their Katrina story posted right on their menu. Every single one of them mentions the Saints.

The city has been consumed by the team winning. Everywhere, you get "Who dat?" (or its relaive "We dat!"). I saw Ba Lee Dat and other variations on the Dat slogan. I saw a deity Brees branding Manning the centaur. The street artists had pictures commemorating the event. In short, you can't swing a dead cat in NOLA and not hit something with a fleur-de-lis.

I myself previoudly thought that the Saints winning wasn't any different than the Bucs winning. Tampa had a long history of futility also. Their draft picks were notoriously bad. They had a nickname signifying their awfulness. They won a Super Bowl after a major acquisition.

But the one thing Tampa really lacks in this comparison is a profound sense of importance to the city. If (heaven forbid) the Bucs were to leave or move, the city would probably take a hit to its pride and they'd be over it in a couple years. If the Saints were to disappear, I don't know if New Orleans would be the same. One of the first things you see coming in on 10 West is the Superdome and I guarantee the first billboard you see has to do with football.

Just like Katrina, everyone has their own Saints story. Even the homeless folks. I chatted with a homeless guy outside of a bar that didn't allow outside drinks (more on those in Part II) and he was telling me about an experience he had with a past player (don't know who) serving him soup at a refugee camp after Katrina. The city needs its Saints like Bourbon Street needs its drunk assholes craving Hurricanes and Hand Grenades.

They aren't the New Orleans Saints because they are a football team that plays there. They are the city in a je ne sais quoi way that is unique even among the best of college towns. And there's really no better way to describe it other than to take in the atmosphere holding a drink in hand watching dumb tourists yell "Who dat?" and having an entire area, from big shots to bum raps, respond "We dat!"

Because it is that guy wearing the Drew Brees jersey while cooking a fresh batch of jambalaya that may as well be Drew Brees himself. I know that I couldn't tell after a little while.