As a reward for my hard work, Marcus graciously gave me off Thursday night. Two days before he told me this, Brick offered me his tickets to the Saints final preseason game against the Dolphins because he knew he had to work. That worked out nicely.
I first offered the other ticket to Paul, who is also a Dolphins and Saints fan. Though he seems to be falling off the Miami train and could care less about preseason. I don't think he's seen one play of Saints preseason action.
Me: Hey, do you want to go to the Saints-Dolphins game next Thursday?
Paul: I don't think so.
Me: I have free tickets.
Paul: Umm. I'll have to think about it. But probably not. I don't really care.
I knew my dad wouldn't say no, though. He's the reason I cheer for the
Dolphins in the first place. I was proud of the two of us for one reason: We both wore Saints shirts to show community unity. (At right, if you look between the two cars underneath the Piccadilly sign, that is a man laying there. At first, I was concerned, but then he started to move. Not sure if he is depressed about Gustav or if he was catching a nap. Or maybe the food at Piccadilly is just that filling. You can't make it to your car without falling asleep.)
On the way to the Dome, dad informs me that we have a Saints connection. Drum roll, please. We are cousins with Gumbo! I kid you not. Well, it is through marriage, but close enough. My dad's dad's brother's daughter's daughter is married to Gumbo, or as we call him in the family, Henry. And no, I can't score you a free Gumbo T-shirt. Heck, I've never met him.
I have several fan observations. Two guys are passing us as they walk up the stairs to their seats (we're in row 17). One guy: "Oh, boy. We're way the fuck up there." Two couples climb the stairs and the lead guy is looking at his ticket to find the right row. This happens all the time, I'm sure. But with two minutes remaining in the first half of the final preseason game? Why even show up? Are these people related to Tyler Palko?
A Six Beers is walking around our section chatting up various people. He grabs the shoulders of a guy (who looks awfully familiar to me, but I can't place him) sitting in the row above us.
Six Beers: Hey, man.
Familiar guy (confused): Hey. Who are you?
Six Beers: Oh, man. You don't remember? You're on my myspace page.
FG: Say what?
Six Beers: You have a Drew Brees jersey?
FG: Yeah.
Six Beers: Yup. That was you.
FG: Me?
Six Beers: It was during the playoff game (against the Eagles). My girlfriend was recording the action after the game. We were right over there by the railing. I was just high-fiving everybody in sight. When I went to high-five you, you went right in for the hug. I got the pic on myspace.
FG: Oh. OK. Sure.
Six Beers: Yah. That was awesome.
(Six Beers then went over to the next section, sat with two gentleman and began a discussion about Wade Wilson.)
I tell dad that I've enjoyed the game, but I can't sit through the second half. Boy, did we beat traffic. Not another car around us leaving the downtown area. But first we had to complete the maze of leaving the parking area under the bridge next to Poydras. Somebody blocked our immediate exit. Somebody dad referred to as a dickhead. So dad threw his truck in reverse, went around a couple of cars, avoided a few muddy areas, ran into a few more dead ends and eventually found the only opening to the street. Whew.
A couple of thoughts on the game.
1) Deuce looked pretty good, especially that move he put on a cornerback. I didn't think he needed to play as much as he did. (At right: Deuce is introduced to the crowd.)
2) Shockey didn't play. But he was the first person to congratulate Gramatica on his field goal. He came on the field and slapped him on the helmet. Barely anybody else looked at Martin.
3) The Dolphins might not be too bad. They got two good running backs when healthy. Pennington could resurrect his career. Hey, a guy can hope, can't he?
(At right, this is one of three smoker's sections dad and I passed on our way out at halftime. I knew these existed, but I didn't realize how many people were out there. This pic is on the left side. I couldn't capture the whole crowd in one shot. It looked more like the floor section at a concert waiting for the main act to make its first appearance. Like dad said: "You don't even have to smoke. Just come outside and breath everybody else's. Save a little money.")
THE TINA CURSING CORNER
I tell my mom that dad won tickets to the Saints-Bucs game Sept. 7 in the driver's T-P raffle. I meant to say dealer's T-P raffle. "The person who brings the papers to the station is called the fucking driver."
Katrina anniversary coverage/Gustav tracking dominated the local stations Friday. "My fucking stories aren't coming on today."
Dad picked up seafood lunch, and we're eating in the kitchen. Dad tells mom about the shower he went to in Mandeville a few weeks ago, where he met Gumbo. "All those showers are fucking ridiculous."
Mom tells Dad about Gillie's latest blog in which she is struggling to find someone to properly print her save the dates. "Save the dates. You ever fucking heard of that? I ain't never heard of that."
Mom gives Dad a warning about talking to me. "You betta watch what you say around him now. He writes everything you say all over the fucking Internet. (And yet she doesn't realize that I'm going to write that.) One day the FBI will come to the door."
GUSTAV TRACKER
I've been nervous about the storm since Marcus' phone call Tuesday afternoon, but I've maintained in my head that it isn't coming and have not freaked out. That changed a little when I got to work Friday afternoon. Just the feel of the building was off. I was given the option to work the weekend. All the TVs were showing press conferences. Everyone is preparing for the worst. That talk makes me edgy.
Now, more lyrics from the new hit that's sweeping the Gulf Coast region: "Can't Take My Mind Off You."
We hate you, Gustav (I love you, baby).
And if it's quite alright (same)
Stay away, Gustav (I need you, baby).
Out of our line of sight (To warm a lonely night).
We hate you, Gustav
Trust in us when we say:
Oh, awful Gustav, (Oh, pretty baby)
Don't come visit, we pray (Don't bring me down, I pray).
Oh, awful Gustav, now that we loathe you, sway (Oh, pretty baby, now that I found you, stay).
to another place, Gustav (And let me love you, baby).
Another place. (Let me love you).
Notes from Friday.
Fox had evacuation spelled wrong during the 5 p.m. news. WWL cut off the governor's press conference for a commercial.
Tina's thoughts on Gustav.
1) "I don't know why they give these (emergency) numbers. It'll just be busy. They don't give a fuck about these people."
2) To dad: "Gustav. What a fucking name."
Today's famous Gustav: Gustav Klimt. 1862-1918. Klimt was an Austrian Symbolist painter mostly known for his erotic depiction of the female body.
Did you know?: Gustav has been used four previous times as a named storm (1984, 1990, 1996, 2002). Names of storms are on a six-year rotation and repeat unless they are retired for causing damage. The other four Gustavs did not touch the U.S.
THE GENE POOL DIP (I MEAN TIP) OF THE WEEK
No jokes this week. Pray for a miss. A lot. And for those who would get hit if it misses us.
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PARTING SHOTS
I was told about this one Friday, but it happened Thursday night at work.
Marcus (to JRap): I've got a great Laffy Taffy joke. What do you call people who are the opposite of Lopes? (JRap eventually gives up.) Anti-Lopes.
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I tell Jelly that I need some sensitive advice.
Jelly: Because I'm such the sensitive type?
Me: No. Because you're a woman.
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THE DAILY TOP LIST
As it seems I might be sleeping out of town in a few days, here are the top 5 places I've spent the night (besides my house) since high school.
5) Some random place Uptown. Junior year.
4) The Uptown Girls dorms. Spring 2003-Spring 2004.
I had an air mattress set up in the living room. If there was a late night at the Maroon or I was drinking somewhere, I was allowed to crash in the dorm, as long as I didn't disturb anyone.
3) Sterling apartments. Baton Rouge. August 28, 2005-early December 2005.
My home during Katrina. At first, we had 10 people living in the four-bedroom apartment. After a few weeks, we went down to seven for a while. Then five. Technically, I was Paul's guest. I had all my stuff in his room. But I couldn't take his snoring, so I kicked him out of his own room. Pretty terrible sounding. In my defense, he often fell asleep on the couch in the living room anyway.
2) South Liberty off Jefferson. July 24, 2005-August 26, 2005.
I spent 34 glory days living away from Tina. That was supposed to be me getting out there on my own. Chuck and I were getting along famously (we even had a Madden night) until Katrina beared down on N.O. It was going to be one heck of a semester, though. Senior year. Parties. A little hard work.
1) The Maroon office. Various nights Spring 2004-Spring 2006.
I lost count of how many nights I slept in the school newspaper's office. If production night went long, I slept there. If I had to pull an all-nighter to finish a paper, I slept there. In spring of junior year, I had a Monday night class from 6 to 9 p.m. and then a Tuesday class from 11 a.m. to 12:15 p.m. in the meeting room of the Maroon office. So I turned the Maroon into my bedroom every Monday night. Someone would nudge me at about 10:55 a.m. Tuesday morning, and I would roll off the couch and stumble into the class with the sheets. Don't freak out. I had all my clothes on.
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