In Re His Greekship.
Entry posted by Gaius Octavius
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It was my pleasure to have met His Greekness, Don Giovanni (aka Pantagathus) :notworthy: , about a week ago. He and his Domina trod up from one of the the outlying provinces to America. I picked him up with the Imperial Chariot somewhere in an exurb of NYC. We somehow knew each other immediately. At first, I must tell you that he is the handsome ideal of a Southern Gentleman. We yakked about many things, (strangling Ramses; putting a hex on Pertinax :notworthy: ) on our way to Brookfordshiresexingham for lunch at Fairway. He never once 'showed me up' on my lack of knowledge of things Roman.
I made the mistake of taking a side trip over the Brooklyn Bridge (which I tried to sell to him) to lower Manhattan to show him what was left of the World Trade Center and a bit of Wall St. Sat in traffic for quite a while, as Broadway funneled down to one lane and we could not get down Wall Street for the destruction taking place. So the NYSE, the Sub-Treasury Building and the shrapnel marks on the Morgan Guaranty Trust Co. wall were off the menu. Got to the WTC area. All we could see was a fence. Off to Brooketc. Showed him the site where I spent my first day in jail when I was about 7 or 8 years old. Finally hit Fairway.
Picked up some fruit, soda, a baguette and semolina bread, olives and sweet & sour red peppers and - Ta Da - some pecorino, Scottish Mull, Prestige de Boulogne and Blue Gouda cheeses. All to die for!!! Death by Cheese! (Eat your liver out Pertinax! :notworthy: ) Had to wash it down with Pepsi (no booze allowed). We nibbled for a long time on the enclosed patio facing the harbor. One can see from north of the Statue of Liberty south to Staten Island as one chomps away. Although the weather started out miserable, by now the old gods were shining on us.
His Greekness :notworthy: caught site of two dusky swans paddling their little innocent hearts out in the harbour a few feet from us. It was all I could do to stop P from making a meal of them. Amongst the rubble there were Civil War era buildings all over the place. A couple of trolley cars graced the patio. We then bopped along some cobble stone streets (in worse shape than the Via Appia Antiga) to a mole with a view of Lower Manhattan and Gouvenour's Island - site of the old First Army and later Coast Guard Headquarters. Think that he has pics of all. Time to head off for dinner.
Dropped off the remnants of lunch along with some Dogfish Head Ale (which he recommended - delish) and some Trappistee Ale (which he kindly got for me - haven't tried it yet) at the wigwam and picked up my Consort. His Lady was otherwise enterprised with some of her pals. Off to Coney Island and Gargulio's Restaurant. The maitre d' kissed my hand in greeting. This astounded P. Went into the church first and had a few pops. Bride had beer; he vino; me dirty extra dry vodka martinis on the rocks. Noted that he wasn't drinking vino. Told him that I would pour it into his pocket if he didn't commence. Never occurred to me that it might have tasted like battery acid! Oh, well! P entertained and charmed my Bride throughout the evening.
Off to table. They split a bottle of vino. And all had things to eat. (Hope it all was at least passable.) To the 
of all, I poured a bit of their wine into my now languishing martini and ate my calamari with my fingers. Of a sudden a fusillade of shots was heard from outside. P hit the deck like a dive bomber going at Yamato. Not a big deal. Happens all the time in Brooketc. Just a few of the lads probably settling a Cicero-Caesar thing. Had sfogliatelle for desert - saved one for his Lady.
At this place, when it comes time to settle up, you get a chance to leave scot free - if you pick the right number on a tile that falls out of a container. Told P to pick the number. P's luck was out to lunch. Off to pick up P's Lady in Manhattan.
She is the epitome of a Southern Belle. A soft drawl that sends electricity down to ones heels and up to the ears. I paid no attention whatsoever to P during the drive back to exurbia for listening to Her and my Bride babbling. As I am irresistible, She slipped an arm around me as we parted and as I tried to teach her how to say 'sfogliatelle'. :wub: Sounds better Her way.
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