Who Dat!

I left New Orleans this morning. I stayed out by the airport and drove over to Pascagoula MS and back (the speed limit is 70, meaning the speed limit is 70 in the slow lane, the other ones are even faster). It was a sunny and mild, pleasant day. Although southern Louisiana is always in a good mood this time of year, festooned with purple and yellow Mardi Gras decorations, this year, everyone is estastic. The Saints, of course. Fleur-de-lis tumbled over themselves on signs, GO SAINTS was plastered on anything that would accept a sticker, and more cars than not were flying 2 SAINTS flags attached to the roof. All the bars were running playoff re-runs from 2 weeks ago. WHO DAT could be heard literally in every dining room, bar, corridor, and WHO DAT was kind of a rumble at the airport. The local news was almost exclusively about the Saints, photo ops abounded in Miami, and these big hulking brutes in business suits proclaimed it was just another business trip. Right.

I wish them well. When I lived in Louisiana we called them the Ain'ts, so it has been a long time coming.