Read this on Saints Report.com and thought you guys might enjoy.

What the Heck

So we had a big office party to celebrate the Saints victory in the Super Bowl. After a couple bowls of gumbo, a few beers and a slice of kingcake, I joined some of the younger guys throwing down "prairie fires", shots of gold tequila with a few dashes of tabasco sauce.

These guys wanted to drag me to the french quarter for some more partying. The new secretary Sparkles, who was kind of hot, was sloshed and wanted me to go too. What the heck, it was a party for the Saints victory. My wife wouldn't mind.

My back was acting up so I told the guys I would pass. One of the junior partners, Bobby, called me a slacker and gave me a couple vicodins. "Okay", I relented, "I will go just for a couple drinks".

Sometimes we have to park on the edge of the Quarter where it can be kind of sketchy. Just to be safe I took my .38 automatic along and put it in my pants pockets. I was going to have it registered but I can do that later, I figured.

Bobby says we could go in his car but asks me if I would not mind driving because he is too whacked. I was a little tipsy but probably the most sober of the group. We all piled into his Lincoln Navigator with the tinted windows and headed out. Sparkles sat in my lap since there were not enough seats. Its been a while since I have seen that much cleavage so close up. Is that eye shadow in there? Must...not...stare.

We no sooner leave than Bobby lights up a joint. I dont think I have smoked pot since college and even then did not inhale. I felt kind of funny with all the junior partners, but what the heck, how often do the Saints win the Super Bowl. "Dont bogart that joint" I told Bobby which got me a lot of blank stares. What, no one says "bogart" anymore?

Well Sparkles must have known what I meant. She grabs the joint, puts it in her mouth backwards, and shotguns me. If nothing else that night I learned that a few beers, tequila shots, vicodin and columbian red will loosen up your back.

The French Quarter was packed. I could not turn on Bourbon street. To find a place to park I would have to go the wrong way down Dumaine. What the heck, the Saints win the Super Bowl. Why not. I started singing when we hit St Claude, but I guess that went over the young folks heads.

I finally found a good place to park right next to the Iberville projects. We all unloaded there and headed into the Quarter. I was thinking catching a little jazz at preservation hall. The boys were thinking Ricks Cabaret. I am a little old for a strip club, but what the heck. And I was a bit worried about a nice young lady like Sparkles being seen in such a place, but she seemed game.

When we get in who is sitting next to the main stage but Pacman Jones and his entourage. "We should go sit at Pacman's table" Bobby announces. "Plaxico Burress and Ben Roethlisberger are sitting with him. And there is Terrance Tolliver and Josh Booty at the table next to them."

They were having fun at that table. Pacman was throwing twenties everywhere. He sure seemed like a fun guy. He let us sit with him once he saw Sparkles. What was odd was that Sparkles knew almost all of the dancers. It was almost as if she worked there before.

I bought some prairie fires for the group and we were all having a big time when the DJ starting playing "Crunk". The place went wild. Our table was stripper central, even Sparkle was getting lap dances.

After a while Sparkle heads off to the ladies room with her rhinestone studded fleur de lis purse. Big Ben says he has to "drain the lizard" and heads off too. We were all laughing about how wasted Ben was because he went into the girls room by accident. Bobby was saying how he hoped the Saints would sign Pacman and Plaxico. "If Brees wanted too much money, we could trade him head up for Roethlisberger" Bobby added.

About this time I reach into my pocket to tip the waiter and a shot goes off hitting the waiter in the foot. Damn, I forgot I had my gun with me. Pacman and Plaxico both pull out their pieces, not knowing who fired the shot. Tough guy Bobby was under the table.

About the same time Big Ben comes stumbilng out of the bathroom with a fleur de lis bruise on his forehead that looked a lot like the one on Sparkle's purse. The police rush in not knowing who did what and taze Tolliver, who had done nothing, right off the bat. Booty jumps up and yells "Dont taze me bro" right before he gets zapped. I grab my group and head out the back door. It was quite a scene with Booty and Tolliver flopping around on the floor while Pacman and Burress tried to ditch their gats.

When we get back to Bobby's car something seemed amiss I could not put my finger on. "The wheels have been stolen" Sparkle screams, and I immediately knew that was it. "We should just take a cab home" I suggest to the groans of the crowd. "Or we could go close down the Dungeon" Sparkle offered, "Some of my new girlfriends from Ricks are headed there" which idea seemed to go over bigger with my crowd. It was late, I was wasted, I had a hole in my pocket and the police might have been after me. But what the heck, the Saints had won the Super Bowl. My wife wouldnt care.