WHO DAT NATION

A friend sent a text message saying there were church bells ringing in New Orleans at midnight.

Others reported that fireworks and music could be heard all night long, from the French Quarter to Baton Rouge.

THE SAINTS ARE GOING TO THE SUPERBOWL!!! THE SAINTS ARE GOING TO THE SUPERBOWL!!! WHO DAT WHO DAT WHO DAT!!!!!
Their first Superbowl ever!!!! The excitement is infectious.

“Who dat say has a bad headache today?” read a Facebook status update.

The answer: EVERYBODY. Who can concentrate on work on a day like this??
WHO DAT WHO DAT WHO DAT!!!!

My twin sister, Joy, and I turned our South Carolina house into New Orleans for the game as much as we could.
We ate gumbo and drank Abita beer. We were loud and rambunctious, holding hands and jumping up and down. We wore black and gold and talked smack about the other team (even though Katy, our future roommate, is from Minnesota and was sitting next to us). We were not sorry when Brett Farve, the rival quarterback, limped off the field.

In a city where they never broadcast Saints games on regular television, we could have very well been the only house celebrating on the whole block.
I’m sure the neighbors had turned off the TV long ago, uninterested unless the Falcons or the Panthers were playing. ( F the Falcons, by the way).

“I can’t watch!” said our Aunt Joy, calling from our parents’ house in New Orleans. The score was tied and the game was about to go into overtime. There had been interceptions, turnovers and injuries.
“I just can’t handle it!”

Our house shook as the final kick was made in overtime putting the Saints three points over the Vikings. OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD!!!!
WHAT!!!!
WHAT!!!!
WHAT!!!!
We jumped up and down hugging each other, not caring how many beer bottles were being knocked down on the coffee table. We nearly cried.
There were no yells loud enough to show how excited we were. I suddenly understood the need for fireworks, to show how EXPLOSIVE the win was.
WHAT!!!
WHAT!!!
High fives all around.
OH MY GOD I CAN'T BREATHE!!! I said.

We popped champagne and passed the bottle around, no need for glasses.
“I’m drinking champagne, too!” shouted my brother over the phone from Los Angeles. I was jealous he still had three hours on us in which to celebrate.

I’ve never been prouder to have a Saints flag in my yard and a WHO DAT flag on my door, gold streamers and all. We even had a WHO DAT doggie.
Our friend, Rachbob, taught her dog Jazzy (perfect) to howl as she said WHO DAT! WHO DAT! hoooooowl hoooooowl hoooooowl!
We hear ya Jazzy!!!
I've watched the video of that dog ten times today already.

I have also watched this video ten times, documented by my good friend Keith who has the great fortune of living in the French Quarter:
http://blog.nola.com/twobitbeat/2010/01/like_mardi_gras_on_red_bull_th.html

Today should be a holiday!!

I keep getting on Facebook to see more videos, pictures, Saints phrases. I can’t get enough. It’s black and gold crack.
WHO DAT FRIENDS! I WILL SHOUT IT FROM THE ROOFTOPS! Their first Superbowl! WHAT!!! The ‘a’ints are truly Saints!

“I can’t sit still!”
“Holy sh*t bomb!”
“What a night in New Orleans!”

After 43 years, we've made it to the Superbowl!! The glory couldn’t have come at a better time — right when the city could use some post-Katrina pride; right when critics said they couldn’t pull off a ‘miracle’; right when Joy and I have rekindled our love for the city — The Saints do something like this.

Bless you boys!

See you in two weeks! We’re making more gumbo.

-Jenny