Watching American sports in Rome takes dedication and sacrifice. Personally, I'll sometimes stay up to catch the beginning of a Capitals game at 1 AM, but rarely see it through to the end. It's a real treat when they play afternoon games because I can watch them at 6 or 8 PM. The Super Bowl started at 12:30 CET which wasn't really that bad considering we didn't have class the following morning.
Sports bars in Rome are typically of the Irish or Scottish variety, not really that numerous, and are usually infested by the bros and biddies that can't function outside of a an atmosphere of general obnoxiousness and excessive drinking. The most popular is Scholar's Lounge, where I've watched a few Caps and Ravens games, but it was going to be impossible to watch the game comfortably there. We researched for sports bars in Rome and found a Scottish place called Highlanders, owned by Dimitri, a Bulgarian. We called to make a reservation the night before, but the guy who answered the phone said they already had 60 names down and there would be no guarantees.
I showed up at 6 because the Caps were playing, and I figured I could sit on a table all night if I got there early enough. One by one out party trickled in to join me in a nice corner booth and then all of a sudden at 8:45, half of St. Johns University floods into this (and I mean this literally) hole in the wall. These are the bros and biddies I had wanted to avoid. We pass the next hour with an all you can drink and eat for 15 euro, then play cards and make fun of the people making fools of themselves.
Speaking of making a fool of oneself, when a bartender was taking a way an empty box of pizza, a certain member of our group who shall remain nameless (keut2j5diBIANCAnne923e0fa5cvev) tried to get him to leave the box by frantically speaking in broken Italian. The bartender turns around and says, "I'm Scottish." This is only after she referred to Dimitri as Bosnian, which he seemed to may have taken offense to, and this is the girl who makes friends everywhere she goes. Though in all fairness Francesco, the evening bartender liked her, but he was Italian and stood no chance against the huntress.
The game happens, yada yada yada. GO SPORTS, as Matt would say. We made friends with the door man Ilyan (also Bulgarian) as we were not terribly interested in the end of the game. Giants win, our group is happy and Dimitri hands out plastic cups of champagne for the victors' fans.
It's 4 am, and we want breakfast. We walk to Trastevere to get breakfast at 6am, which might have been the worst decision of my life. It's a long way, I'm tired, its cold, we're all.... "happy", but most of all tired. The place isn't open, we take refuge in the vestibule of a bank, then a mom and pop cafe, drink 2 cappuccinos, and finally are allowed in the breakfast place at 6:30 AM for a long awaited "American breakfast." We wait about 20 minutes and Bianca decides to go ask when American breakfast starts. She returns, looking slightly nervous and sheeply tells us it doesn't start until 10 AM. Unanimously we say, "Forget this!"and take the tram to the bus depot, where luckily all of are buses are just about to leave. My bus ride is short, because its 7 AM, and I eventually lay my head down at 7:30. Too bad Maria Luisa wasn't up, It would have been the first time I had been up for breakfast with her all year.
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