Super Bowl Sunday

          Super Bowl Sunday morning everyone in the Louisiana house awoke with a smile, anticipating the big game. We all found a way to stay busy.  We women set about grating chocolate for the chocolate fountain, chopping onions for pico de gallo, mashing avocados for guacamole and stuffing jalapenos. We set out the decorations—Saints banners, glittery fleur de lis pendants, Mardi Gras beads, and a cake that looked just like a Saints football helmet. As the guests arrived, the standard greeting was “Who Dat?!” New Orleans’ new anthem, “Black and Gold,” boomed all through the house as we geared up for the kick-off.

            The game started with everyone’s eyes riveted to the movie theater sized screen. We were all loading our plates with crawfish, oysters, barbecued ribs, steaks, sausage, spaghetti and meatballs while keeping one eye on the game as the Saints took on the Colts.  

Then someone brought one of the family dogs in injured. Indy had been run over by a golf cart. While the game played, we called the emergency animal hospital, and loaded Indy into the back of an SUV. Our hostess, Dawn, left with him at the end of the first quarter. She got back at the end of half time. Indy would stay overnight where the vets could keep an eye on him. He had a broken vertebrae.

 We added prayers for Indy to prayers for the Saints. Then came the gutsy onside kick. Jumping, screaming, high fives, and hugs filled the house. It was a hard fought game, but we breathed easier in the second half. After one of the Saints touchdowns, we cranked up “Black and Gold” on the sound system so loud, it blew the fuses for the big screen! Someone yelled, “Look, there’s a TV upstairs!” We stampeded up into the loft and crowded around an average sized screen. Our focus on the game continued up there until the big screen started up again.

When it looked like the Saints had the game locked up, we all exhaled until late in the fourth quarter when the nanny told Dawn (who is a nurse) that she felt sick—chest pain, shortness of breath, numbness in her left arm. We called 911 and two ambulances and a fire engine arrived. As the EMT’s loaded Maria into one of the ambulances, our host, Lee persuaded the EMT’s from the other ambulance to hold up a Saints jersey and pose for a picture. Maria also smiled and waved as she left. Only in Louisiana!

After the final seconds ticked off and the Saints’ victory was history at 31-17, after we’d cheered, hugged, dance and screamed, we went the emergency room to check on Maria. The doctors said she didn’t have a heart attack, just too much tequila and Tabasco sauce. We said our good-byes since we were leaving early in the morning. On the way home Dawn quipped, “I guess it’s not a party unless someone ends up in the emergency room.”

At home we watched the party on Bourbon Street. People were wild with jubilation. The police sitting atop horses had smiles on their faces as they watched the crowd. Every once in awhile a hand would come up out of the crowd and stroke the horses’ noses.

On our way to the airport the following morning, lines of people circled the buildings of New Orleans’ Times Picayune hoping to get copies of this historic edition of the newspaper. Cars and people lined the streets near the airport, waiting to greet Drews Brees, and the Super Bowl Champions when they got home.

We flew the long way home—through Philadelphia—the only free mileage flights we could find back to Seattle. I proudly wore my Saints t-shirt and Mardi Gras beads. Every Saints fan boarding our flights acknowledged me with at least a knowing smile and at most a rousing “Who Dat?!” It seemed like everyone across the country was a Saints fan for Super Bowl XLIV, February 7, 2010.