Like 80,000 other Who Dats across the Gulf Coast, Chef found a present in his mailbox yesterday. A letter from Ebeneezer Benson and St. Rita. Chef ain't gonna lie about what happened next . . .
"I cried like a baby. I kissed that letter, man. I held it close to my chest. I fell to my knees and lifted my arms to the sky. I about peed my pants, man."
Then reality sunk in. Do you call in first to make sure your playoff ticket order doesn't get lost in the return mail? If you call, do you tell the Saints front office to mail the tickets? Do you pick the tickets up on Airline Drive in Chef attire? Do you kiss the sales representative?
What about after the tickets are in your hands? Do you open a safety deposit box at Whitney National? Do you check behind you when you leave the ticket office, to make sure no one's tailing? Do you tell your family? Your best friend?
Does a playoff appearance count as a 1-week doctor's excuse from work? Or in our case, a 4-week excuse?
Important questions, Who Dats. Very important questions. Consider them carefully. But only after you have framed the invoice: