Sports Bar

Back out on the streets of Plovdiv in search of a solution for our sports addiction, Tom and I came across an imposing façade on the main pedestrian mall whose glittery lights exclaimed Sports Bar and Casino. The black entry doors mysteriously opened in front of us and revealed a bodyguard dressed in black who spoke no English. A cheery, East European woman with a severe hairstyle, also dressed in black, asked us for our passports. You must have a passport to get in. We didn’t have them with us, but went back the next day. This speaks to our determination.  Once we provided our passports, the doors to the Sports Bar unlocked before us. It was the most depressing place ever! For all its artificial glam, the dark space smelled of stale smoke, vibrated with American pop music, and housed the requisite video poker and slot machines as well as blackjack and roulette wheels. About two players were in each room. All men, all looking sad and varying in age. We found our way to the small sports area where about eight large tv screens projected all types of sports, and stadium seating provided the viewing area just like in Vegas. One lone man sat in a lounge chair smoking a cigarette. A young man was behind a podium. He spoke little English and was not very friendly or inviting. I could see the Australian Open on a couple of screens, but saw no football. This was Saturday and we were wondering if they would be showing the pro football playoffs on Sunday to determine who is in the Super Bowl. The man told us it would not be live, but they might show it the next day. He was in no way encouraging.

We couldn’t get out of there fast enough. After getting our passports back, we returned to the daylight. My theory about the place was that it was run by Russians, and we were not welcome because we were obviously Americans. I worried about them now having copies of our passports and the next thing you know the Russian mob would be raiding our apartment and taking us hostage. Who would pay the ransom? Tom’s theory was that we didn’t look like gamblers, so why bother being friendly?  He also informed me that all casinos in foreign countries require a passport to get in. He did easily promise not ever to go back and play blackjack.

We still do not have a solution to the Super Bowl, but I think we will survive. In the meantime, I am blissed out to have found that Eurosports on tv is covering the Australian Open, and I have been reveling in the viewing of a five set Djokovic match. I think I can relax now.