When the Saints Go Marching In (to the Emergency Room)

by Michael Bird

My wife being a New Orleans native was cause for celebration this year.

The New Orleans Saints – or, as my father-in-law sometimes calls them, the Ain’ts – made it all the way to the playoffs and a spot in the Super Bowl.

On the same day, my sister turned 30, so my parents had a big 1980s-themed party leading up to the kickoff.

My wife even found her giant New Kids on the Block pins to wear. We dressed the kids in hot pink, lime green, and denim.

I didn’t have to stray too far from my sense of personal style. As a fashion victim from the 1980s myself, I dug out my Salty Dog paisley print shirt, which is as ugly today as it was back then, tight-rolled my blue jeans, and stepped into the Reeboks.

My Swatch wasn’t working, so I left it at home. But the hair gel was in play, as I styled what’s left of my hair into a spike. I also found my original 1987 glasses – real glass in gigantic silver metal frames – purchased at Hammett Optical Dispensary, and put them back on for effect.

The party was a lot of fun. 1980s music was on in the background, and my parents went all-out to make their house appear as it did way back when. My sister received a scrapbook of her life and was given a hope chest that contained sentimental items, such as her cheerleading uniform and old prom corsages.

So, fun with the family over, it was time for the ball game. Traveling back home, we missed some of the first half, but I was primed and ready for halftime and the second half.

I never saw a single play.

While changing my baby daughter’s diaper, she fell from the changing table and on to the hard tile floor – a good three feet at least – and did not cry.

Knocked out, baby Lydia turned white and seemed unresponsive. Did she have a concussion?

I rushed the one-year-old to the Emergency Room at Community Hospital just as halftime was finishing, trying my best to keep the baby awake.

She was staring into space. I was so scared I had hurt my baby!

The emergency room personnel were very nice, but overworked. The waiting room was packed out. And there I was, with my spiked hair and big glasses, tight rolled blue jeans, and a shirt so loud it smelled like the 1980s. It’s a wonder they didn’t send me to triage instead of the baby.

Lydia turned out to be okay. And I won’t hold it against her that I missed The Who perform, or that we didn’t see the Saints win. I guess it was indeed a Super Bowl night to remember!

Michael Bird is a band director for Tallassee City Schools.

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