Who Dat Maelstrom

In eight days, The Saints will compete in their very first Superbowl in team history. It promises to be a hell of a contest between two teams who played a hell of a season. But, let's be honest here: The Saints, if they hadn't firmly laid claim to the title during the course of the regular season, have now cemented themselves as America's Team. Few people outside of Indianapolis fans or perhaps embittered die-hards of the many teams the Saints left battered in their wake will be rooting against New Orleans. It's the ultimate Cinderella story. And while the story-lines surrounding the Superbowl are already growing old and trite, one can't help but to be swept up in what this game could mean for the crescent city.

When the Saints beat the Vikings for the NFC championship in nail-biting fashion in overtime, I was watching the game in a crowded bar with friends. It was a night of huge highs and lows, and by the time Garrett Hartley kicked the game winning field-goal, everyone in the place was emotionally drained. I'll remember the night for the rest of my life. It was one of the most perfect evenings I've ever experienced. When it came time for the game-deciding kick, the owner of the bar locked the door, everyone crowded underneath the big screen, standing hushed as the ball went into the air. As soon as it became apparent that the ball was going to split the uprights, the bar bursted into cheers and screams and elation. The bartenders began popping corks and passing champagne to everyone in the bar. There were tears streaming down the faces of at least half the patrons, and hugs and kisses and dancing were happening at every turn. My friends and I walked into the street where cars were already stopping in the middle of the road so the passengers could get out and dance with the pedestrians. Music was blaring from every direction, cars were honking in celebration, with people hanging out of windows, chanting, cheering, and occasionally flashing their breasts.

As we walked down the street, not a single car that passed went without honking and yelling "Who Dat", and we gladly returned the sentiment. When we finally got to another bar down the street, most of the patrons were outside. We quickly grabbed our drinks and went outside to join them, whooping and hollering at every passing car or person. Cars stopped to give high-fives, pulled over to dance with us, and nobody we came across the entire night was without a broad smile across their face. Later on, we decided to drive down the street to get even more of a feel for what was going on in the city. On the radio, announcers were jubilantly calling out, "Pigs have flown! Hell has frozen over! The Saints are going to the Superbowl!" as we rolled the windows and sunroof down. Cops were on the streets, but not pulling anyone over or telling anyone to get off the road. They were seemingly there just to make sure no one was hurt, and the smiles on their faces made it clear that they understood what this meant to everyone in New Orleans. The girls in my car stood on the seats to shout out of the sunroof as happy hands and faces surrounded us. I crept along as if it were a parade route, and the jubilant masses came toward the car, slapping us five, pumping their fists, and shouting "Who Dat" until they were hoarse.

There were no riots, no flipped vehicles, no fires. This city knows how to celebrate, and seeing the absolute unity that a Saints Superbowl had caused was almost too moving to convey.

The euphoria is mostly over now, and all eyes are looking forward to next Sunday. Many citizens are saying that they don't care whether The Saints win or lose. They say that just getting there was enough. But, I'd like all of you fellow Saints fans to keep this in mind: we can win this thing. And as magical as the NFC Championship game was, it was merely a pep rally. When we bring home that Lombardi trophy, this city and its fanbase will never be the same. It may be one of the most important moments in New Orleans' long and storied history. There's a sense of pride, a sense of expectation, and a commitment to excellence that go along with winning the biggest prize in the game. That mentality of being first-class ... FINALLY first class ... can and should spread to other lines of thought within the citizenry. We can demand more from our populace, more from our elected leaders, more in terms of infrastructure, business, modernization, and progress. To call a Superbowl victory the catalyst for such a widespread change of mindset may seem completely far fetched. But, if you had been in the heart of the city and seen what I've seen ... you'll believe just about anything is possible.

In the Year 3000

Increasingly, it looks like we're all headed toward a future full of morbidly obese people suffering from night terrors and new-age maladies like restless leg syndrome. None of these people will be able to pay for the medical treatment they require, either for the legitimate or more fantastical conditions they're afflicted with. They will lie helplessly, reeking of death, and pondering their long-shattered dreams ... as the newest reality shows blare from the TV sets, reminding them that Hollywood is full of 17 year old millionaires, while they're living on a pittance and have to poop through a tube. All social skills and old-time niceties are long forgotten in this brave new age. So, these people can only croak at their chirping, bleating computer screens; the closest they know to interaction. The digital world, and all the disposable gadgetry that's now available via vending machine is what encompasses the new so-called "real life".

I really shouldn't let the buzz about the iPad cause me to become so unsettled. However, all things considered, I'm pretty sure I just described my own bleak future ... 10 years from now.