Three years ago this past January, we decided to make a suburb that separates itself from the city of New Orleans by a 24 mile bridge, our home. We immediately fell in love with our forever home and yours truly started this blog (Hooah Wife is my other). Because of my positive energy and ability to get what was in my head on my keyboard (some days better than others), I got picked up to write for NOLA.com. My following was pretty large and my time with them ended when I became involved with a political campaign (whatever – no sour grapes etc..). Anyhoo…when I go back and read some of my stuff, it brings back some awesome memories of all my “firsts” in the city. Even though I reside in my palace on the Northshore, my heart and often my Mommy Van are in New Orleans. Sometimes, I even find myself crossing the bridge twice a day. If it weren’t for the quality of life for my children, there is no question that I would be residing somewhere in the city. You see, unlike any of the places I have lived, New Orleans is just not a “great place to visit.” No, each second there is truly an “experience.” Music, art, food, people, parades, unique culture, tourists and more…make the city so special, so alive.
Last night, this Yankee couple attended our 3rd Original Krewe of Orpheus Ball (ya there is some history as to the other parade by the same name). Hubby rides in this men’s Krewe and thoroughly enjoys it. It costs money to ride and purchase your throws (yes tourists, we buy the stuff we throw to you) but it is an “experience” you are paying for along with camaraderie. Well, the irony of how hubby got invited, was from our neighbor who saw him running in a Red Sox shirt when we moved here. Turns out the neighbor and a couple of other guys on his float are also Massholes (small world, wouldn’t want to paint it – comes to mind). During all the “whodat” mania during the ball, I was talking to said neighbor and told him that it would be a writer’s challenge to relate to my readers the Saints hysteria. He told me there was no way to ever accomplish that goal no matter how good of a writer I was. He said you had to “experience” the energy. You know what? He is completely right!
What I can tell you is that I live in California in 1994, when the 49ers won the Superbowl. It was nothing compared to the hysteria and excitement in the air here. Every man, woman and child is wearing black and gold. “Whodat” has become as common a greeting as hello. The Saints dominate conversation between everyone and the headline news (and there was also a Mayor’s race going on). There is a happy feeling in the air, an electricity that is contagious. Yesterday, I was in the French Quarter for a couple of hours. There were cars and trucks decked out in “Whodat” attire with speakers on them playing “The Crunk” song. Black and gold was everywhere and everyone was yelling “whodat”!
Win or lose today, the Saints making it to the Superbowl has brought a rebirth of hope to this city that many wanted to write off as hopeless. I am proud to call this city home and encourage all those who still have it on their bucket list or who have not visited in a long time, to get down here this year!
GEAUX SAINTS!!! WHODAT!!!