With the sun shining, with people happily strolling around, with the faint sounds of trumpets in the background … I mean, wasn’t this New Orleans? Wasn’t I looking at New Orleans?
So, imagine my surprise as I’m standing there in front of the Du Monde, plowing my way through the best bargain in the United States — three beignets for $2 — with powdered sugar spraying my clothes just like old times. Imagine me looking around and thinking about how egregiously I underestimated the city’s rebuilding effort, and thinking to myself that New Orleans might make it after all. Imagine those dormant memories from Super Bowl XXXVI flooding through my brain, one of the single greatest weeks of my life. There’s no question. I’m having a moment. I’m having one those I’m-in-a-movie, larger-than-life moments that can happen only in New Orleans.
You gotta read the whole thing. Send him a thank you note while you’re at it.
UPDATE: More nice props from JA Adande:
One of the benefits of having the festivities in New Orleans, besides the great food (“That gumbo — man,” Allen Iverson said), was the option of walking everywhere you needed to go. That’s what I did Saturday, footing it to the arena, the parties, wherever, despite a right leg that was severely damaged after Charles Barkley’s inexplicable decision to sit on my lap Thursday night.
New Orleans has always been the best host for the big sports weekends, and even in its weakened state it still came through.