Having spent a couple of years distracted by our recent infatuation with TCU football, my wife and I were thrilled to find our way back to Tiger Country. It felt like going home, even in ways that could not have been anticipated.
From a perch high in the west upper deck of Tiger Stadium, we saw LSU maul the Florida Gators. The seats were actually pretty good; and on a mild breezy day we had a great view of Baton Rouge.
As we walked toward the stadium, naturally we had to weave our way through several square miles of tailgate parties. We stopped for a few minutes at a friend’s low-key affair, which gave me a chance not only to eat and rest a few minutes, but also to reflect on the remarkable contrast in fan sensibilities we witnessed in just one week's time.
You just can’t explain to TCU people what LSU is like. Frog fans are pleased with their game-day experience, possible because it’s so understated in comparison to many SEC schools. As I navigated a profane, besotted sea of purple and gold, it hit me: Game day at TCU is like a James Taylor concert. At LSU, it’s like Bonnaroo: a giant festival that coalesces into a celebration of the senses. The sights, sounds, tastes, smells and feel of the place are just remarkable.
Because the game was played in the afternoon, we decided to drive home afterward. Lafayette is about an hour west of Baton Rouge, so we planned to have dinner there. 
Shortly after nightfall, we stopped at Prejean’s just north of town.
We’ve eaten there several times, but for some reason this particular dinner seemed just about perfect. As I dived into a bowl of spectacular seafood gumbo and enthusiastically spooned potato salad, I found myself becoming surprisingly emotional.
I thought about it for a few minutes, and then I realized what was going on. I was so happy to have such an amiable and agreeable travel partner. My wife and I have been doing this kind of thing together for more than a quarter-century and we almost always have a good time. Moreover, every bite of food I took, every sip of iced tea, evoked memories of the meals that were routinely prepared by my mother and my aunts. They’ve all been gone for so long that I didn’t realize how much I miss them, especially their cooking.
I woke up the next morning and told my wife it might actually be worth it to me on a Sunday to drive back to Lafayette just to eat. She said she felt like the whole trip, driving south and then north across the state in a day, Tiger Stadium and dinner, relegitimized her as a Louisianan.
We’re really enjoying our association with new friends in Texas; but when you get right down to it, gumbo still has the edge over barbecue and Tex-Mex. See you at dinner, and forgive me if I’m crying just a little. They’re tears of happiness.
Sunday, October 09, 2011
The Gumbo That Made Me Cry
Sunday, October 11, 2009
The Party Ends With a Thud
(Baton Rouge) – There was an electric atmosphere around the LSU campus on Saturday as the Tigers’ clash with top-ranked Florida approached. There had not been a match-up of top five teams in Tiger Stadium since 1959. The Bayou Bengals, at number four in the nation, would have an inside track toward another national championship if they won.
Sadly for the assembled faithful, the game was a lackluster affair and LSU lost 13-3. That’s right, they didn’t score a touchdown. It’s fair to say the game provided an anticlimactic thud for a finish to what had been an extraordinary day.
My trips to Tiger Stadium easily number in triple digits, but this day was different for me. Typically, I’m all about the game. My family and I aren’t big partiers and the legendary excess of Tiger Tailgating isn’t really in our repertoire. For this event, I arrived with a group of buddies seven hours in advance. It was a “blind but now I see” afternoon. We walked across campus and found a place just across the highway for lunch. The place was jammed and we waited almost three hours for a table.
I have always heard that if you spend any time walking around campus on game day you will be offered more free food than you could possibly ever consume. This is absolutely true. We could hardly take thirty steps without being tempted by any number of Louisiana delicacies from jambalaya right on up to fried or grilled alligator, even gator sausage.
We were also showered with offers of beverages, but here’s the thing: No one offered me a coke or iced tea or water. One hundred per cent of the drink offers involved alcohol: Beer, wine, booze, it didn’t matter. There was simply an undeniable assumption that you would want to drink, as if it would be some kind of social faux pas to NOT offer an intoxicant.
I’m not a prude; I accepted a beer and a Bloody Mary along the way, so I’m certainly not judging. It’s just that I started watching for this little detail and discovered a remarkable consistency. I stopped accepting those kind of offers mid-afternoon. 
We were there, after all, for the game and I wanted to watch it with a clear head. I certainly hoped to remember it.
As it turned out, it was probably worth forgetting.
Not really. My day as a tailgater was memorable. The campus was awash in purple and gold. There was a great concert outside the stadium.
When it was all said and done, the largest crowd ever to see a game in Tiger Stadium shoehorned in there.
There was a throng left wanting outside, simply enjoying the party. With the exception of the outcome of the game, I’m happy to say I enjoyed a little bit of both.
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Oh! And I got a new mascot photo out of the deal, too!
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Toxic Rain on the Bayou
(Baton Rouge)- The last time we saw the Vanderbilt Commodores, were were freezing cold but happy because the football team from my wife's alma mater had just won a bowl game. Fast forward to a rainy south Louisiana Saturday night and you find a woman in conflict. 
A lifelong Louisiana resident who loves her Tigers as much as any other non-LSU alum, she found her affection conflicted as the Commodores made a rare trip to Tiger Stadium.
She struggled with what to wear to the game, knowing full well she would be in close quarters with Tiger faithful for the first home game of the season. She settled on an LSU polo shirt with a Vanderbilt pin and socks adorned with her school's colors.
We let a select few fans in our proximity in on her conundrum and they seemed comfortable with her as long as LSU had a two-score lead.
Unfortunately for her, that circumstance did not prevail for a significant portion of the game. When the Commodores drove into LSU territory with an opportunity to tie the game in the second half, she was just toxic. I just occasionally patted her on the shoulder to let her know I was there for her.
Ultimately, Vanderbilt was Vanderbilt. They turned the ball over at key moments and had a couple of stupid penalties to keep LSU scoring drives alive. The Tigers won and the lone Vandy fan in the section accepted it well, as if it had been preordained.
The LSU people around us were uncharacteristically gracious. but really nobody hates Vanderbilt, not even Tennessee fans. I suspect if she had graduated from Alabama things would have been decidedly different.
