When in doubt, have a parade

So, last Tuesday, I went to my first parade of the season.

Yes, we have a season of parades: Its called Mardi Gras. The parades are usually accompanied with heavy partying, drinking, and/or other forms of debauchery

First things first, these aren't your boring old 'normal' parades. Oh no. Here, we have people on the floats that throw stuff to the crowd, the bands not only play, but also dance. Its more akin to a block party on wheels than a parade.

Its pretty sweet.

Now, I don't know if you heard or not, but the Saints won the super bowl. I even got up off my lazy butt and blogged about it. So, the first real "big" parade of the seasons was....

You guessed it. A Saints parade. And, lemme tell you, they know how to make a parade work.

I stood next to a rather cool old woman, and a trio of die-hard Saints fan girls. Actually, it might be better to say duo, because the third one fainted upon seeing Drew Brees.

I must say, Brees has some stage presence. With a very limited amount of throw-crap, he was pumping up the crowd, running all up and down along his float, dancing along with the music...

The man was drunk out of his mind.

But, that could be said for almost the entire team, as they where dancing on the floats, jumping off to run by and high-five the crowd, dancing with the speakers, starting crowd chants...

Jeremy Shockey was dumping beads on some woman that was flashing him with, I hate to say this, not all that much.

Garret Hartley was looking so start struck with all the cheering, I thought he might faint.

They didn't throw much, and the parade wasn't all that long, but by the time Sean Payton (the head coach) rolled around on his mega-float with the Lombardi trophy, you felt like you had been to one of those big parades.

Payton was the only one not drunk. Probably due to fear of dropping the stupid trophy. But all he had to do was hold up the Lombardi trophy and the crowd went nuts. I had a sinking feeling that if Payton wanted, he could have pointed the trophy in any direction and we'd have followed, performing some kind of jihad-esque fanatical march.

Which probably means that we'd follow the trophy, descend on where it was pointed, run whatever poor infidel place Payton picked out of booze and stumble back to New Orleans.

I dunno whats worse, the fact that I really thought of that or the fact that I'd be right there with 'em the whole way.