“New Orleans is Oz, and everywhere else is Kansas” -Unknown
Bourbon St, hours after Superbowl 2010.
“Sunday night, Bourbon St. was like a capital city of some country after a dictator has been overthrown”, said the NY Times on Monday morning. And I thought, no, that’s what we did on Saturday.
To outsiders, New Orleans is a strange place on a daily basis. Aside from our preoccupation with the primitive pleasures in life – food, drink, music, sex, revelry – we spontaneously break into debauchery mode for no apparent reason. So when we DO have a purpose it can be a force of nature. I like to think we’re celebrating life whenever we get the urge. No waiting, seize the present.
People in New Orleans are superstitious even though they claim not to be. I’ve been hearing all kinds of bizarre theories on why we were destined to win the Superbowl, but I don’t believe them. I think a bunch of perceivable things lined up at the right place, at the right time. The Saints are a phenomenal team this year, full of great players, not just one. And they were cheered on by not only some of the most dedicated fans in the world, but by an entire city, some who’d never even watched football until this season (Dude, goths, grannies and transvestites were watching). We wanted our win, we EARNED our win. And the national sports media can bite my coonass.
It can be confusing to some how the win of a football team can somehow be tied to the rebuilding of a devastated city. But if you lived here you’d feel it. Athletes often talk of ‘momentum’, and Nola has definitely been experiencing it since Katrina. There is a drive and energy here that simply defies. For being a culture preoccupied with pleasure, I didn’t realize how passionately the people here would go to war over defending their right to it. I guess we’re more like our French fathers after all. The Saints winning the Superbowl is a reflection of what’s happening here. We, like many of our players, are outcasts that were given up on. But we keep fighting to be here, for the right to live where our mama’n’nem did, the way we were taught to, the way we need to.
Sunday night, as I walked to the French Quarter (it looked like a pilgrimage), and through it (an ocean of bacchanalia), I tried to take it all in the best I could through exhausted mildly intoxicated eyes. It looked like an enormous lovefest, better than anything I’d seen in those old Woodstock films. Because instead of a bunch of privileged disenchanted white kids getting high to piss off their mommies, what I saw were strangers of all ages, wages, races, and religions all hugging, kissing, jumping, screaming, dancing and crying in each other’s arms. And for the first time in my life I saw the French Quarter, including Bourbon St, return to the LOCALS. Not a touron in sight.
Today there is a parade honoring the Saints – Lombardi Gras we’re calling it. We overthrew our dictator on Saturday, won the Superbowl on Sunday, and now we get to party for another week until we finish off carnival season. We’ll rest for a couple of weeks and plant our vej-eh-TAB-ls, and then start picking the green beads out of our Mardi Gras stash for St Patrick’s Day, and then start prepping our backpacks for Jazz Fest and the dozens of other Spring festivals we have here when the weather is perfect. Hmm, we sound cooler than mere Oz. Anyway…
When I was a kid I remember hearing that the reason the Saints could never be a winning team was because voodoo queen Marie Laveau had cursed the city. If that was true, then today we can take comfort in knowing that somewhere in New Orleans there’s a more powerful voodoo priestess walking around. And she’s on our side.
Because that curse was certainly broken.
Some pics I took with my pocket camera. Projection screen I watched the game on.
Decatur St was the busiest I’d ever seen it, even including Mardi Gras.
Back of the Cathedral from Royal St.
Passed some street food on the pilgrimage to the Quarter.
This one isn’t mine, but it is my favorite Superbowl celebration video so far because it’s on the street I live on, Magazine St.
Saints Superbowl Victory Celebration from Cottage Films on Vimeo.
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Just beautiful – the post, pictures, win, all of it. I want to hug everyone.
As a scientist, I don’t like to think in terms of “destiny,” but when I woke up on Sunday morning, I simply knew the Saints would win. Even when the first half got away from us, again, I knew. As a scientist, I cannot dismiss these occurrences, too, as data.
WHO DAT, BABY, WHO THE HELL DAT!
Glad you guys could come down and spend that historic night with us ….
and listen to “Stand Up and Get Crunk” in a more appropriate setting.
@Maitri – Thanks! And yes, I think I’ve cried more this week then I did when my kids were born (bad mommy!). I love your logic :-)
@Will Thanks for having us! Good times and good memories. Crunk and all :-)
WHO DAT!
It can be confusing to some how the win of a football team can somehow be tied to the rebuilding of a devastated city.
i know my NYC family got it…
it was kinda like when the Yankees came out to play after Sept. 11th
wish we could have spent more time w/ you guys after the game but we had been in the quarter drinking since 11am that day and i was totally drained…but it was worth every second!
How did you get a sitter?
@blackshoe10 All the grandparents stepped up to set us free for the night. It was most appreciated :-)
Beautiful post. We weren’t so lucky to have a sitter, so we spent the evening with friends. But after the game was over, we all went out into the street and could HEAR the city erupting. It was amazing.
i came back to read your post. i don’t want this feeling to ever end. :)
@termite: I know, me either :-)
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