A L S O _T O D A Y World Cup scenes By Matthew McAllester Passion and indifference mix in rural France World Cup From the stadium to the bar stool, watch for our ongoing reports T A B L E_T A L K How much should a plane ticket cost? Where can travelers get the best deals? Share your tips and tales in the Wanderlust area of Table Talk R E C E N T L Y Hog heaven By David Kohn At the Memphis World Championship Barbecue Cooking Contest (07/03/98) Mondo Weirdo Nude Beach of the Week Readers bare all on an isolated Maui beach -- and in the heart of Munich (07/03/98) Yankee, go home! By Michaela Griffin Being an American expatriate in Beijing was great -- until the president's visit (07/02/98) Jazz swings into Beijing By Dan Ouellette Even better than President Clinton, jazz in China is spreading a message of liberty (07/01/98) Among the hooligans By Ethan Zindler World Cup scenes: Threat and theft among the hooligans in Lens, France (06/30/98) Browse the Wanderlust Postmark archives		THE CUP RUNNETH OVER AND OVER | PAGE 1, 2 - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - "They won the game, but we're winning the party!" That's how one Norwegian fan describes the massive outdoor beer bash at Marseille's Vieux Port hours after the match. Indeed, Norway did lose the game to Italy, a drab affair between two defense-oriented sides. By the end, frustrated French fans had booed the Italians off the field. But now the Norwegians are winning the party -- much more decisively than they lost the match, in fact. You would never guess that earlier today they were eliminated from the Cup. "Stand UP, if you Love Norway. Stand UP, if you Love Norway" and "Ohhhh-lé, olé, olé, olé," they sing over and over again for hours. Blond and tanned and wearing national team jerseys and shorts, 150 of them dance on tables and chairs in front of the Le Quai Restaurant and Bar Glacier. A nearby sign reads, "Thank you all Norwegian Friends." One supporter wearing a plastic Viking helmet and no shirt scales a nearby 10-foot phone booth. From on top, he bangs a small bongo drum and leads his countrymen in a new round of songs, most of which I can't understand. Before long, he's joined up there by a number of others. One waves a giant Norway flag. But a small counter-demonstration is under way. Ten Italians with Azurri jerseys and green, white and red headbands have crashed the party. They chant "EE-Tal-YAH, EE-Tal-YAH," then sing star striker Alessandro Del Piero's name to the tune of Scott Joplin's "The Entertainer." One climbs the phone booth. He and a Norwegian put arms around each other's shoulders and wave their respective flags in tandem. The crowd below roars. By now, the party consists not only of Norwegians and Italians but Brazilians, Scots, local North African Marseille youths and others, 20 of whom gather near the base of the phone booth. They stand in two lines facing one another. Each crosses his arms at the elbow, reaches out to the person across from him and grabs hold of both their hands. An arm trampoline has been formed and participants chant, "Jump! Jump! Jump!" to those above. The Viking is the first to go. Arms outstretched, screaming, he does a stage dive off the phone booth straight into the humanity. He is caught but the net nearly breaks as the crowd wobbles under his weight. He emerges unhurt to more cheers. Others decide to try this diving board out for themselves. Some go belly-down, others do back flops instead. Two young women wearing nothing more than Scotland flags as dresses dance suggestively atop the phone booth. "Show us your ti-its," the men below sing. They decline but flirtatiously egg on the crowd by hiking up the flags to reveal more and more leg. Everyone wants them to jump but they're too scared. A local kid is even more drunk than the rest and pulls one of them toward the edge. The two stumble and go flying off the phone booth. The human trampoline holds, but just barely. There is a mad scramble as the pack of rabid men grope and grab at any part of the Scottish woman they can get their hands on. She escapes breathless and scared but obviously also exhilarated. Somehow the flag has stayed on. By now, I'm standing directly at the base of the phone booth, photographing the divers as they take off overhead into the crowd in front of me. But above, a Norwegian fan is spraying us with a beer and he looks just a little too unsteady for my liking. So I make my way off to the side -- just in time, as it turns out. Suddenly I hear a solid thud and what sounds vaguely like bones cracking. Behind me, on the pavement where I just was, is the beer sprayer. He has fallen off the phone booth and looks dazed. His friends look concerned and tell him not to move. For just a moment the crowd shuts up. But in a flash he's back on his feet. Thankfully, somebody has the good sense to end the phone booth diving game. It was on this very spot two weeks ago that English supporters clashed with local police, throwing beer bottles and other projectiles. But on the periphery of tonight's mayhem, local residents watch the proceedings with nothing but detached amusement. One tells me he's "not worried at all because these aren't the English." He says there are police here, just plainclothed. In fact, there are plenty of other cops nearby. A police bus is parked no more than a couple hundred meters away. Five or six riot cops stand outside smoking cigarettes. The rest of their team dozes inside the bus. Back in front of the Quai Restaurant, the party continues late into the night as Norwegians and Italians sing together past 2 a.m. As I make my way through the craziness, I suddenly feel a warm spray on my leg. A teenager in a Scottish team jersey and goofy red wig is drunk off his ass. He looks at me guiltily. I look down and realize that he's taking a whiz right in the midst of everything. That's my cue to call it a night. I head for the hotel. SALON | July 7, 1998 Ethan Zindler is covering the World Cup for Salon Wanderlust. Discuss the World Cup in Table Talk's International Issues area.