Of all the great American cities, New Orleans is the one place I always wanted to visit but never had the chance. What’s not alluring about The Big Easy? Wine, women and song? It’s like every day is the Mummer’s Day parade in New Orleans, only, you know… it’s cool.
I wanted to go to New Orleans before I read John Kennedy Toole’s A Confederacy of Dunces or watched Easy Rider. When I was in college – and even a few years afterwards -- Mardi Gras looked like it was the must-take trip despite assurances from former New Orleans residents that it was “garbage.” But truth be told I’m in love with that crazy, hoodoo-voodoo jazz music, and if I ever have my way, I want to have a New Orleans-style funeral.
No sense getting everyone down. Why not be happy and think, “Man, we’re sorry that you’re gone but we’re sure glad that you got to be here… let’s celebrate.”
That just seems to make a lot more sense than the cold grimness that accompanies most wakes.
That was then, of course. I don’t think I want to go to New Orleans these days. You know, after. It just breaks my heart too much and even a New Orleans-themed dirge can’t liven my spirit.
That could change, though, as long as the “new” New Orleans isn’t some manufactured, homogeneous Manayunk-looking frat boy/yuppie haven. New Orleans was always appealing because it was down-and-dirty with that don’t-worry-be-happy vibe sung by Satchmo with Dr. John on the keys and the Marsalis and Neville brothers on the backup.
I can go to a Starbucks or Fridays in any suburb anywhere.
Anyway, it looks as if the Eagles’ defense is struggling against the running game with Deuce McAllister racking up 44 yards on three carries. One of those rushes – a 28-yarder up the gut – set up John Carney’s 33-yard field goal for the game’s first points.
Meanwhile, the Eagles’ offense appears to be struggling, too. The only thing keeping the Eagles in it has been the Saints’ mistakes. So far the Saints have the remedy for Brian Westbrook.