I live in a new shimmering three level orange colored apartment building right off the East River that is decorated in the middle by a wrap around balcony that drapes around the waist of this Toga Palace which is where my Little Greek Landlord lives with his incredibly bang-able without any makeup on, Greek accented wife that hails from a prestigious Olive Oil family off the Island of Crete that made it’s fortune for coining the expression Extra Virgin which was used as a PR ploy to downplay the horny devil gene that made the female side of this family so hog wild. Last Saturday night my Little Greek Landlord threw a giant Toga Party in honor of Apollo who inspired him to make his Toga Palace look like a rich, deep sunset as it skinny dips into the Mediterranean. Meanwhile, I’m one floor below with my new born and wife watching the Fabulous Baker Boys on a Saturday Night not feeling so fabulous in my new cherished Addis sweat pants which have become my stay in gear of choice along with a faded V Neck Gap Shirt which is a far cry from the orgy proper gear worn above.
Europe always trails behind America in pop music by a solid decade and Greece is no exception because on this night we heard a dated stream of poppy techno that came off cheesier than Joey Fatone. Everyone always praises the big Greek Community in Astoria which I’m not apart of tonight which makes me feel like a loser freshman all over again.
The doors just opened to this Toga Bash and the half bald, Aristotle types and out of work Philosopher Professors trip over their robes as they make a mad dash to the kiddy table so they can play footsie with the little undeveloped Greek kids under their toga sheets before they dart up to dance to Dancing Queen. My Little Greek Land Lord puffs out his chest as he puffs his millionth Marlboro Red while casually leaning up against his balcony while being surrounded by heated lamps on both sides which give the balcony party scene an LA rooftop sort of feel yet the view across the river from his wrap around patio is of the beaming, twinkle towering Manhattan skyline not hollow Hollywood, which compels him to keep that chest puffed out knowing how small my Little Greek Landlord must feel under it’s larger than life presence.
A Tzatziki white Greek Woman jugs a bottle of red wine while everyone around her cheers with ravenous delight as you see her own jugs juggle at an equally ferocious rate. By the time she finishes jugging the jug of wine, she throws the jug down with authority outside the balcony window which picks up speed as it flies by my Little Greek Landlord on the balcony as he tilts his head at the last second to avoid getting smashed yet the jug ends up clipping his cigarette in two before it comes crashing down on the street which makes a deep, hallow pouncing sound because it was made of plastic. Glitzy lights, Heated Lamps and Plastic Jugs is the closet thing you can get to an LA party scene in Queens and it’s those tiny details that made this Little Greek Landlord’s Toga Party shine above the rest.
By now the Little Greek Landlord’s Greek brothers are getting incredibly smashed and taking turns making out with the framed Sophia Loren picture on the wall. My Little Greek Land Lord points at the Tzatziki white Greek woman that is running around the apartment with her wine stained shirt off, exposing only her bright red bra. And he says to his friends in an objectifying way: Just like her father’s Diner, she’s always open for business, she’ll take you in any time no matter how drunk you get.
My Little Greek Landlord’s wife overhears the insult and slaps him on the cheek which generates a ohhhhhhh from the Greek Electrician, Plumber, Cable Installer, Restaurant Owner, Mechanic, Diner Greeter and that’s just his brother. She freezes for a second, unsure of whether he’ll strike back which would be a death blow to the Toga Party. Instead, he grabs her hip and rams up against her with controlled force and starts to kiss her deeper and more passionately than the day he plucked her off the Island of Crete in his Calamari Boat with promises of a brighter, richer, fuller life in Astoria even though it’s dirty, smelly and unkempt and a poor place to raise two daughters with no playgrounds in sight. The Greek King and Queen catch a breather from their love filled Toga torching kiss. Then, their two beautiful olive oil skinned daughters come running up to them and grab on to a leg a piece and hold on with all their might, wishing the party would go on forever as the first hushed winter over breeze blankets the wrap around balcony which is the only play ground these girls need. At this moment, my Little Greek Landlord is able to block out the grime, graffiti and burnt down, infested , abandoned plots around him knowing that he’s king shit around these parts, the big Bronzini in a small pond. Tonight, he welcomes Spring, toasts the Apollo God for his sun palace, and celebrates his prized family knowing that for now his two beautiful daughters remain extra virgin, including mine.