On Thursday evening my husband and I were chilling on the couch, watching 30 Rock, when we had to back up the DVR and re-watch a scene between Jack Donaghy and his Bostonian girlfriend from high school, played by Julianne Moore, because we thought we heard the words “B.S. Saints bandwagon.” And, sure enough, we were right; that’s what we heard. Now, we understand that the writers of 30 Rock were making fun of Patriots fans, but we were still like, “Awww, hell no!” Things are getting tense, people.
Permit to psychoanalyze for a moment? So, we all heard that Lil Wayne isn’t rooting for the Saints today. He explains his love for Brett Favre, blah, blah, whatevs. But, you know what I see here? A classic phase in the Oedipal drama. If New Orleans is Lil Wayne’s mother, and he’s had to go out into the world (which is painful without Mommy) at some point the child (Lil Wayne) has to reject the mother in order to properly break away. Think about when your Mom dropped you off for your first day of junior high and she straightened your collar, and you rolled your eyes and kind of hated her for a second, ’cause she’s embarrassing? That’s what’s going on here.
And what of this Us Weekly article saying that Angelina Jolie hates New Orleans, and that it’s driving a wedge between her and *Brad*? What I see here is a writer at Us Weekly, who presumably lives in LA, thinking to herself, “God, what does Angie do all day when they’re in that sleazy, dirty, sh!th*le, New Orleans?” And, then she wrote a little article, because we all love to hear about the rows on Mount Olympus between our modern day Zeus and Hera: Brad and Angie.
I have met people like this Us Weekly writer, people who have moved down here briefly, and said things like, “You really like it here? It’s just so dirty.” And, I think to myself, “don’t waste your breath, this person will never understand.” If one does not have the capacity to see the beauty in entropy, one cannot truly understand the beauty of New Orleans. I like my beautiful a little ugly, if you know what I mean. I think Angie does, too.
Or possibly, there is a simpler explanation: THEY’RE JUST ALL HATERS ‘CAUSE WE’RE NUMBER ONE!
So, where to enjoy the game? The Quarter is going to be nuts, but this is going to be one of those nights–one of those “I remember where I was when we found out the Saints were going to the Super Bowl” moments. And, I think I want to be in the middle of all that excitement, for a little while anyhow. Now, the important thing to do is to lay a good foundation. If you start out on an empty stomach, there will be regret. Now, I spent all of my college years in Santa Cruz, a city where cheap, delicious, abundant Mexican food saved many young people, like myself, from starving. For a long time I lamented the lack of cheap, fast and good Mexican food in New Orleans, and then Felipe’s opened up. Head over to Felipes, and get a Super Burrito. I go with either Al Pastor or Spicy Chicken. Don’t forget to visit the condiment bar, where they have pickled carrots and onions, lime wedges, all kinds of salsas, etc. And they have 24 ounce bottles of Tecate and Sol. A good way to start game day imbibing.
So, we’re in the Quarter, but not sure at which bar to watch the game. Any “sports bar” is going to be so over-run, and I actually want to watch and listen to the game. Let’s go to One-Eyed Jacks. It’s more of a late night, rock and roll club, but they just got a fancy, new plasma TV, and not everybody knows that.
After our stunning victory, you’ll want to stroll through the streets of the beautiful French Quarter, howling at the moon, greeting everyone you see. The entire city will be an after party, so let’s leave it up to serendipity. Start by strolling through Jackson Square and see where the night takes you…
Dare you to eat a Lucky Dog.