The Sports Cafe

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The Sports Cafe

It's a normal bar, for crying out loud!

The doorman is acting like we're trying to get into some upscale New York City VIP nightclub, and we're not on the guest list. He asks, "Do you have a table?"

"Um, no. But we're planning to get one, when we go inside."

"Can't," he says. "They're all taken."

"Oh, well that's alright," I say, expecting to go inside anyway. He doesn't budge, staring at us.

I ask, "Can we not go inside without a table or something?"

"One moment," he says, turning his back to us and speaking authoritatively into his walkie-talkie. Nicola and I are looking at each other like what the hell. The doorman turns to face us and says that we can go in and stand around and wait for a table to open up. Duh, like we hadn't thought of that. "Five pound cover charge," he says.

As Nicola and I shuffle inside and pay the girl behind the little table, we hear the doorman hassling the group of guys who were in line behind us. He tells them it's a twenty-pound cover. "What?" one of the guys says. "But you charged them only five."

I roll my eyes and almost run right into Troy. "Oh hey!" I say. "You're here already. Where's Gary?"

"Where do you think?" Troy laughs. "He's been on the phone with his girlfriend for the last three hours. He said he'll meet us here, but I'm not holding my breath."

We spot a booth with lots of empty bottles and glasses on it and a huge pile of coats lying in the seat, but no people anywhere near it. So we scoot the coats and bottles over and sit down. I send Steph a text telling her that we got a table and where it is. The TV right in front of the booth is showing some sort of pre-game show for the upcoming football game. It's the SEC Championships, Florida Gators versus the Alabama Crimson Tide. Of course, Florida is NOT part of the south, and Alabama is. So, although I'm a Volunteer through-and-through, I have to pull for Alabama.

My phone rings. Stephanie, Raeann, and Dean are stuck outside with the doorman who doesn't believe they really have a table. Steph asks, "Can you please come to the door and tell the doorman that we're at that table with you?"

So I run to the door. A huge line of people is being held up by the burly doorman, with Stephanie right at the front. "Hey! They're with us!" I tell him.

He looks suspicious, but let's them in.

Steph quickly clears off our table and gets a server to wipe it down. With a new round of drinks, we settle back to watch the game. There's no sound. "Maybe we can get them to turn this techno music off so we can listen to the game," I ask a server.

She returns and says that there's a private party upstairs, so they can't turn down the music and they're going to leave the TV's on mute. We watch the first quarter with no sound.

Next thing I know, we're FREEZING! The front doors of the bar are wide open. Trying to ignore the cold, I pull on my coat and sit on my numbed fingers.

Finally, I go up to the girl who takes the money just inside the door. "Excuse me," I say. "Do you think we can close the doors? We're all freezing."

"No, I don't think so," she answers, barely looking up at me. "If we close the doors, then we'll have to keep opening them to let people in."

I stare at her. "So? That's generally what people do with doors."

"It's just easier to keep them open."

"Yeah, but look at this place," I say, with a sweeping gesture. "Everyone in the entire bar is still wearing their coats, scarves, and gloves. We're all bundled up because it's freezing."

She looks around like she hadn't really noticed. "Well, I'm almost right in the door, so I'm bundled up, too."

Right then a man from the back of the bar approaches and asks if he and his wife can put their coats in the coat room. "No, the coat room isn't open today," the girl says.

The man looks stunned and aggravated. I tell him, "There's no need to open the coat room, sir, because it's so damn cold in here, everyone's wearing their coats!"

I stomp back to the table. "Are they gonna close the doors?" Steph asks.

"No. They said they don't wanna have to open them again."

"Let's get outta here," Steph says.

It's only half-time, and Florida is ahead by two touchdowns. Done with this game; done with this place.

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