Saturday afternoon in Fire Island Pines finds three of the housemates in various states of stupor watching a gardening documentary as the pool outside overflows from the torrential rains that have made this one wet summer on the Island. All six of the other house mates progressively bailed out of the weekend and even now one of us is fixated on his IPhone with the BF back in the city so you can guess he too will be on the next ferry. While I pour a generous amount of Dewars into a glass and watch the water gushing over the top of the gutters a text message comes through on my cell phone. It’s a guy I met during Happy Hour at G Bar in the city last week and surprise- he and a friend are staying in Cherry Grove for the weekend. After a few more “What r ur plans tonite?” they reveal they are going to a Toga Party at the Ice Palace. And, not only are they going but a friend has made their custom togas. “Do u want to join?” Maybe it was a weak moment but facing an evening watching the Carol Burnett reunion show just released on DVD did not exactly appeal to me so I agreed to catch a Water Taxi and meet them. I did have a wardrobe crisis though as I live in a house where all the sheets are Blue and from the Martha Stewart collection. Not a problem as their friend offered to put something together for me. So, after a long, soaking wait for the Water Taxi- thank god you can see it from Tea at the Blue Whale, and a wet, rough ride I disembarked in Cherry Grove. Their friend- a closeted costume designer whose favorite movie must be “Cleopatra” had a tunic awaiting my arrival. Now this was no ordinary tunic, it featured a cape affixed to the right shoulder with a large broach and there was even a garland to accent my shaved head. A few more “dressers” to boast our confidence- after all how often do you go out sober wearing a sheet and no underwear and our little band of Romans was off. The Ice Palace was transformed, with shimmery, custom-made drapery and adorned with large bunches of grapes and if the lighting was just right, you stood back a good distance and squinted – it really did look as if you were in a Roman orgy! So it was that I found myself dancing with a hot Roman bear- okay he was Puerto Rican- and realized that not wearing underwear may not have been the smartest move as the front of my tunic now had a prominent bulge. He noticed too and I’m sure it was only to protect my dignity that we were soon outside in a cold rain on our way back to his place. And so, on Sunday morning if you were enjoying your coffee at the Bay Bar and you noticed a a barefoot guy running by in a wet Toga and clutching a tattered cape you can relax- you did not miss the try outs for “Cleopatra” at the Whyte Hall Community Center.