ADVENTURES IN SALSALAND

My editor was so cross with me today! “You do realise your deadline was a week ago?” she snapped, her voice crackling down the long-distance line. How she tracked me down to a small hotel room in Thessaloniki, I shall never know. “Who is this?”, I mumbled incoherently, staring at my puzzled expression in the mirror and wondering where I got that black eye. “You’ve got two hours to come up with something or you’re fired!”. “But…”. She slammed down the phone before I could reply. I tell you my friends, I’ve been living quite the high life since joining the Latin Connection team and, hangover or no hangover - I’m not about to forsake the ample paycheque that wings its way to my East Vancouver apartment monthly. And so, here I sit in an internet café in downtown Thessaloniki, with two hours to come up with something to keep my readers happy.

But where to start? Well, I’m over here for cousin Stavros’s wedding so I suppose I could tell you about that – what little I remember of it. The ceremony was a standard Greek Orthodox affair, celebrated by Archbishop Gregorios, a man with an impressively long beard and the requisite deep booming voice you expect from an Orthodox priest. Then it was back to the Electra Palace hotel where I joined my cousins for a few shots of Ouzo at the hotel bar before the meal. There, I regaled them with tales of my North American exploits. As luck would have it my cousins are all smaller than me – the tallest was 4’7”. Being, for once the tallest person in the group did wonders for my confidence and the Ouzo which seemed to flow like tap water didn’t do any harm either.

The meal was a blur of Ouzo and moussaka followed by dancing to the groovy beats of cousin DJ Demetrius. At some stage I took a nap and when I awoke the crowd were assembled in a circle on the dancefloor. Now, if you think I’m going to miss a chance to join in a rueda then you don’t know me at all. Nicely embalmed, I jumped up and pushed my way into the circle, grabbing the nearest female and barking out orders in my best Spanish: “Arriba! Abajo! Enchufla Doble!” but nobody was taking any heed. Suddenly I realised I was in the middle of a traditional Greek Circle Dance. Some of the men broke free and started improvising their own strange dances which seemed to consist mainly of springing and leaping around the dancefloor. I may be half Greek but I tell you I was out of my league here. This should have been my cue to sit down, but what do you think I do? Well, my friends, I’m not quite sure why but I start breakdancing. I didn’t even know I could breakdance but it seems there’s a lot of things you can do when you’re on the Ouzo. Archbishop Gregorios must have been on the Ouzo too because next thing you know he starts breakdancing and suddenly we’re in the middle of a breakdance showdown, the crowd cheering us on: the little guy from Regina pitted against the deep-voiced Archbishop with the big hat - which by the way gave him an unfair advantage when it came to executing a head-spin.

I don’t remember much else from the night except a fight I got in with a cousin of the bride. I should have known better than to take him on. Maybe it was my newfound confidence after hanging out with my short cousins. Or maybe I was trying to impress Desdemona, the Greek beauty he was chatting up. Now, anyone who knows me knows I’m not one for getting into arguments about politics or world affairs. But there comes a point when you have to stand up for what you believe in. After listening to this ignorant man babble on incessantly for half an hour with his outrageous opinions, finally I could take no more. He had crossed a line and I had to set him straight.

I strutted confidently up to his table and tapped him on the shoulder. He turned to look at me. “Actually, for your information, Jennifer Aniston has way more class than Angelina Jolie and if I hear you drag her name through the mud any longer I shall have to ask you to step outside where we can settle this man to man”, I proclaimed (and all this in Greek, if you can believe it). It was only when he stood up that I realised he was considerably taller than my diminutive cousins. “Oh yeah? And what are you going to do about it”? I caught a glimpse of Desdemona out of the corner of my eye, smiling at me. As regular readers will know by now, I’ll do anything to impress a beautiful woman. And so, without much further ado, I threw my drink in his face. The last thing I remember was his fist making its way towards my face in slow motion. Ah yes, now I remember where that black eye came from. Well, my friends – it’s closing time in the internet café and cousin Petros is beckoning me with a bottle of Ouzo. I feel another adventure coming on. Until next time…

Enriqué.

# posted by Enrique Papadopoulos @ 6:46 AM