Look closely.

Bet you didn't think you were staring at the entrance to the finest pool hall in all of Tirana.

When laziness shuts a door, it opens a window ... sometimes. Our second day in Tirana was one of those sometime's. Armed with a map of Tirana and a pen marking of a mysterious "path" leading to the river, Stewy and I set out with a mission to go to the mountains on the eastern outskirts of the city. (I'll tell you right now, we never made it to the mountains).

Having walked for at least 20 minutes away from town, it was becoming pretty obvious that we had missed the path. The beaten path, that is. Or, shall I say, the Lonely Planet path.

Our way was much better.

"Are those pool tables?"

We couldn't tell if the place was someone's house or a billiards hall. Two old women with their daughters were sitting on plastic chairs in the driveway, but underneath a concrete lean-to were two nice -- but worn -- Italian pool tables.

"Uhh.... birra?" It's always fun in a new country when you know zero of the language. "Do you have birra?"

The answer was "no," so the old man that had come outside to greet us sent his seven-year-old granddaughter to run down to the corner store and grab two cans. And he racked it up for Stewy and me.

I've now met two Albanian old men. The first was our pool hall patron, Bajram. The second was a Kosovar named Ramadan. That'd be like a foreigner traveling to America and only meeting two old men named Christmas and Easter.

Bajram was the man. He wasn't too used to two white Americans coming to his place -- I'm taking a gander and saying it was the first time ever -- but he was definitely excited about the prospect of our business. Four games and two beers = $5. I love the Balkans.

But it got me thinking. We all know how much Lonely Planet sucks. We all know that people who treat it like the Bible need to get a beating. How funny would it be to sabotage next year's edition by getting a job as the Balkan Planet writer and putting things like "Bajram's Pool Hall, Tirana, x and x address, the hottest place in town"? You know a troupe of "Where are you from? Why are you traveling? Oh really? Cool!" girls with North Face fleeces would swarm Bajram's place, only to find out that it's not the hottest place in town! Bhahahahahaha.

Especially when they saw the scenery that comes as part of a package deal when you make the walk there.

Stewy's decision to wear sandals was not a good one. If he had read my version of Lonely Planet, though, maybe he would have known about that in advance.