By Greg Bishop What happens when a country the size of Connecticut suddenly needs to house over a million visitors? Chaos. The pub at the downtown Red Lion here fills with World Cup revelers on Saturday afternoon. They’re downing beers and cocktails. Smoking cigs. Munching on nachos made from Doritos—not bad, for what it’s worth—and burgers and onion rings. Gazing at flat-screen televisions, where Australia is tangling with Tunisia. It’s a slice of normalcy, in a place unlike any the World Cup has ever been held. Eventually, the imbibing will end, and the revelers will head back to wherever th…