It’s game day in the Who Dat Nation, when club-level ticketholders snuggle into their leather seats in the Mercedes-Benz Superdome’s lower bowl, gaze up to the tippy-top of the Terrace seating areas and thank their lucky stars that they don’t have to sit THERE.

It’s also when my husband, our crazy Who Dat friends and I scale the stadium steps, stand on our vinyl cheap seats, pound our fists against the metal wall behind the Terrace’s top rows, gaze down to the club-level seats, and thank our lucky stars we don’t have to sit THERE.

This may surprise people who think the Superdome seating areas are basically divided into “first class” and “coach.” But the thousands of diehards who choose to sit closer to the ceiling than the field know what I mean when I say that the upper deck is the screaming, jumping, hugging, foot-stomping, high-fiving, hard-partying heart of the Who Dat Nation.

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