For the 1988 Sugar Bowl, my wife, along with her older sister & husband, the youngest sister, and parents, arrived three days before the game that was on New Year's Day. We were excited to see our 6th-ranked Auburn Tigers take the field in the Super Dome against the undefeated 4th-ranked Orangemen of Syracuse. We had rooms at the Sheraton overlooking Canal Street and enjoyed all the sinfully fun activities the Crescent City offered. The daughters took the parents to all the required food stops. There was the obligatory “
Breakfast at Brennan’s”, a leisurely beignet at
Cafe du Monde, dinner at
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| 54th Annual Sugar Bowl. |
Commander's Palace, and the night before the game,
Arnaud's. What could be more exciting than Auburn, Arnaud’s, and New Year's in New Orleans?
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| New Orleans, Louisiana. |
For those few who have not heard of Arnaud's, it offers the quintessential New Orleans fine dining experience featuring a French and Creole menu. They offer several signature dishes and are renowned for their table-side presentations. We were having Bananas Foster prepared for us, and the table behind us was having Café Brûlot. Preparing Cafe Brûlot table-side is an event unto itself. Steaming hot strong coffee, lemon strips, cloves, peel of one orange in one intact strip, etc. All are prepared with the finest silver service, and of course, the lights are lowered for the flaming finale. The server drizzles flaming brandy into the coffee bowl by way of the long, spiral orange peel.
Since we were having Bananas Foster, which also required flame, these two guys were back to back. For the first few minutes, all was going well. All eyes from both and other tables were on our servers. The noise of the room also appeared to quieten as if the light dimmer also controlled the room's volume.
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Cafe du Monde.
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Now, before I continue, I must tell you my Father-in-law has sinus and allergy issues and is prone to sneezing attacks. His sneezes are loud, but they are "sensed" before they happen. Much like the way a tornado sucks the air from around you, he inhales a moment before the cocaphonous concussive and violent expulsive explosion. Many of his neighbors have jumped from their recliners with quite a startle on still, summer evenings when he commenced to sneezing.
As fate would have it, the spices tickling his nose were more than he could handle. For some of us at the table, time slowed down. When I replay this in my mind, it is much like the Zapruder film of the JFK assassination. Blurred images, jerky movements, all in silent progression. In my heart, I know he tried to stop but could not. The first sneeze caught nearly everyone unaware. Our server, whose head was facing the opposite direction from my father-in-law, jumped, spilling Bananas Foster on the floor. He turned to face my now-horrified father-in-law, who was now on his way to another sneeze when the server scrunched his head and neck as if receiving an impact. I believe to this day he said, "I'm Hit!". Perhaps it was some spittle or “some magic loogie”. The impact knocked him into the server behind him, who, at the precise moment of the initial sneeze, lit the brandy-laced orange peel as he began his ladle pour. Our server slams into the other's back, causing him to drop the flaming orange peel into the bowl of spiced brandy while also sending the lit ladle into the air. The ladle and its contents were last seen traveling towards the kitchen, with a flame following behind as if it were rocket-propelled. By now, a server, laden with a tray full of entrees, exits the kitchen to find the smoldering ladle with his foot. He slips and falls, causing the server behind him to do the same. Somewhere across the dining room, a woman screams, "We're all going to die!". Although later, when pressed on her outburst, she claims she said, "We're all going to see Coach Dye!"
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| Café Brûlot ladle pour. |
By now, my father-in-law has stopped sneezing. His face is a lovely shade of purple; part huckleberry blue from lack of oxygen and part strawberry red from embarrassment. For a moment, there was complete silence throughout the restaurant. No one moved. Time stood still. Then, as if on some unseen cue, busboys, servers, front-end managers, and hostesses all appeared and cleaned the mess, tended to the diners, and offered heartfelt apologies. Our server managed to salvage the Bananas Foster, and we even ordered Café Brûlot. However, we told him we preferred he hold on to the ladle. He forced a smile.
When our check arrived, we scrutinized it looking for any charges unrelated to our meal. We decided to pay cash, so we broke out the Benjamins—we did not want our full names known to management. I could not resist and wrote on the check, "Best Dinner Theater in NOLA!" signed "Orange Nation—SU", in hopes they would think we were "Damn Yankees" from New York.
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| | Auburn Coach Pat Dye autographing Ties. |
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What a wonderful way to ring in 1988. It was a fun night. One that gave us many laughs, even during times of duress or mourning, memories of that evening always brings a smile to our faces.
As for the game, it was a Tie, 16-16. In response, Syracuse sent hundreds of ugly "ties" to Coach Dye. (Tie Dye. Get it?) In return, Auburn fans sent "sour grapes" to their coach. To have the last laugh, Coach Dye autographed each tie, then sold them for $100 each. More than 2000 Syracuse fans unknowingly became Auburn University donors, with the proceeds going to the General Scholarship Fund. Those “sour grapes” were sweet as Sugar. War Eagle!
