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A Superbowl Hangover

Today is a day of recovery in the city of New Orleans.
No, not from high waters and wind-thrust debris, but from excessive jubilation and unanimous celebration. The scene on Magazine Street was overwhelming, to say the least. The row of local drinking spots overflow with fans, mimicking the cups of adoring patrons. Dozens of police cars with singing sirens parade down the road-narrowed by grinning crowds on either side. Officers exchange hugs, kisses, high-fives, and ecstatic "Who Dats" and horn blows with the surrounding crowd. But the citizens of the Who Dat Nation stand united by more than just the skin on the palms of each others hands. Citizens and friends of New Orleans are brought together through insurmountable joy, home-team exhilaration, and a few hundred thousand shots toasting the New Orleans Saints, the Who Dat Nation, and the recovery of this great city.

And somewhere in hell Buddy D. is popping open a bottle of Who Dat champagne...on ice.

by Lauren Siegel