Sunday, January 14, 2007
Who Dat Think They Gonna...
So it may be quiet around here sometimes, but it sure wasn't last night. As the final seconds ticked down on the clock and the Saints claimed victory, a wild roar arose outside. We, our friends and us, dashed out the front door, and up and down the street, people were pouring out of houses (well, the occupied one's at least), dancing on porches, dancing in the street. They chanted "Who dat think they gonna beat dem Saints! Who dat think they gonna beat dem Saints!" They mobbed passing cars who honked in cheer. They mobbed a cop car who flashed his lights in joy. Strangers high-fived us. A complete stranger hugged me. Our middle-aged neighbor lady, giddily drunk and near tears, hugged us and told us she loved us and was so glad we were back.*
It was a beautiful, beautiful thing. It was good to see we could make that kind of noise.
* We hardly knew her before the storm, but shared misery is a powerful bond.