Well, it’s here. The first Saints playoff game. I am relatively new to being a full-fledged football fan, and so far, it is bittersweet. The excitement is sustaining during these cold, winter months. But, I am reminded of Buddhist parable about not be attached to earthly outcomes in order to attain true peace–and I am so attached to today’s earthly outcomes!! Well, I think it is worth it. This is what the collective heart of New Orleans looks like right now:
We’ve been through the mill. We are tired and world-weary, but we hope, believe. Because, it is better to have loved and lost than, blah, blah, blah.
Can we start drinking yet? Let’s. You should really stake out your bar stool a good hour before today’s game starts. And, in part two, of our very late in the season tour of bars in which to watch sport, we are going to the R Bar. They’ve got a big old projection screen behind the bar, and will usually provide free food. They have a surprisingly good beer selection, and some of my favorite bartenders. It’s become a very popular place to watch the Saints this season, so if you want fun and rowdy, this is the place.
After our stunning victory, you need a celebratory feast. All this testosterone and tribalism has you wanting meat. This is when you realize you are only blocks from Port of Call. You are also not the only person who has this idea. So! The moment the game is over, pay that tab, and head on over. Port of Call is a well-oiled machine serving up perfectly-prepared and very reasonably-priced steaks and amazing burgers. Both come with a baked potato, upon which you can inflict all kinds of perversities (heaps of butter, sour cream, bacon, cheddar cheese, sauteed mushrooms, chives). Port of Call has the ambience of the hull of a sinking ship–in a good way. I hope they have capitalized on the whole pirate phenomenon.
After you arrive and put your name on the list (BTW: I have found that being exceedingly nice to the host is very helpful in getting seated in a timely fashion, they deal with a lot of jackasses), head over to the bar and get a Monsoon ($9.50).
I am usually against this sort of tropical drink, diabetic coma-inducing stuff, but I have a sentimental attachment to this particular cocktail. It’s just part of the experience. So, by the time you are seated you’ve hardly made a dent in your Monsoon, but your feeling very warm, and cheery. You decide to opt for the cheeseburger ($10.75), while you hope your date goes for the Rib-Eye ($21.95), so you can have a bite.
Well, now you officially need a disco nap. If you are marooned downtown, why not go back to the R Bar and get a room? Yes, not only, are they a great bar, but also a “bed and beverage.” The rooms are actually quite nice. And if you follow that link and look at all those fish-eye lens pictures, that’s literally what the room will look like after your long day of drinking.
You’re up and refreshed, and decide to make your way up to Magazine Street to Les Bon Temps Roule to see R. Scully and the Rough Seven (11pm). Ryan Scully, of Morning Forty Federation infamy fame has a new project, and it is just the sort of raw, catchy New Orleans rock you want to hear on your day of rowdy fun.
Are you still going? Good God, you are. Well, you asked for it. I guess you’ll have to head over to “the dirtiest bar in town,” the St. Roch Tavern to shake your booty at the late-night dance party: St. Roch Saturdays with DJ Rusty Lazer. I am not responsible for anything that happens from here on out.