They ain’t the “Aint’s” no more. Pardon my grammar, but with last night’s huge Saints win over the Vikings, I’ve practically come undone!

Partying continued until the wee hours this morning as Saints fans poured into the French Quarter to celebrate the long awaited victory over the Vikings which was the doorway to Super Bowl 44.

My son, B, was right in the middle of it all.

He was front and center as friends and strangers joined arms and grown men cried.  The win was all the more sweet in the wake of Hurricane Katrina which inflicted immeasurable pain on the city, taking lives and wrecking property.

All of that history, from the 1-15 football seasons to the broken levees, made the hugs all the more real in the moments after Garrett Hartley’s 40-yard field goal split the Superdome uprights, sending the 43rd edition of the Saints to the Super Bowl and sending a grateful city into a surreal celebration never before seen through decades of parades, festivals and other good times that have always rolled through the Crescent City.

Saints win, dome rocks

The suffering in the city. The bags over our heads. The rebuilding of both city and team, all became somehow worthwhile as the game rolled to the thunderous conclusion.

Around the city, fireworks could be seen and heard as soon as people had time to spill from their houses and light matches. Mardi Gras is getting a head start this year.

In the French Quarter, where thousands partied throughout the day and during the game — well before the lucky 70,000 with tickets returned — a similar scene unfolded. The Who Dats, long-suffering loyalists since 1967, have finally reached the promised land.

Now, we’ve got to get ready for the “Dolts.”