As a Cowboys fan, I should be steaming mad and outraged at the teams performance against the New Orleans Saints last Sunday. However, it saddens me to confess that I’m not. I wanted the Cowboys to win, I always expect them to win and I always believe that they will find a way to win. They didn’t. They lost ugly.
I should be calling for defensive coordinator Monte Kiffin’s head on a platter or blaming linebacker Sean Lee for being injured again. Yet, I won’t. At least not this time because I was in New Orleans and I drank Tito’s vodka. November 8th, November 9th and 10th and 11th, I was intoxicated. I drank all of those days. I drank. In excess. On the night of the game, I was drunk. I’m drunk now. I’m drunk right now. But I’m not an alcoholic. I’m a die-hard Cowboys fanatic.
I remember it all began with a phone call. An invitation from my good friend and fellow Cowboy Nation member, Tim Bradley of Jacksonville, FL and his brother Chris from Atlanta, GA. They planned a trip to New Orleans, LA that happened to fall on Cowboys weekend. Pretty soon, two people turned into a group of 15 Cowboy fans flying and driving into the French Quarter from various parts of the nation. Friday morning, I tossed my emergency duffle bag filled with undergarments, jeans and Cowboy jerseys into the trunk and hit the road for 550 miles.
I have to immediately say thank you to the officer that shall remain nameless, but gave me a warning ticket. You were absolutely correct. Getting there safely is more important than getting there first and it’s okay for people to pass me. Also, the usage of cruise control provided me with AMAZING gas mileage.