Tuesday, February 5, 2013

Wiener Ball

Vienna is famous for its ballroom dancing. The great show that is a Viennese ball is a living monument to a time when the city was the center of an enormous and illustrious empire. In the 1800s, the privilege of dancing in full regalia would have been reserved for the wealthy and "Adel" of Austria.  Today, however, a simpleton like myself can slide my souls upon the painstakingly carved parquet floors of the Hofburg, however ungracefully.  The Fulbright commission provided the opportunity for the ball of a lifetime and no amount of chorophobia was going to keep me away.

We were a group of about 12 20-somethings braving the snow soiled streets in spite of our tuxedos and gowns to reach the Hofburg. I of course will not tell you which one I had on.  There came a moment about 50 yards from the Hofburg where we all stopped our nervous chatter and gazed in expectant awe at the golden-lit façade of the half moon shaped palace.  Thrilling, regal, intimidating. We were stepping into a different time, cue the goosebumps. It's the kind of feeling that makes you raise your eyebrows about two inches.

Inside, it was everything you might have dreamt a ball would be like.  A sea of people waltzing to the music of Johann Strauss provided by a real life orchestra. No canned music here.  The dance floor blooms all at once every time the pattern calls for a twirl of dresses that likely cost more than I've ever made in my life.  Faces are reserved, trance-like, sighing an effortless "look how easy this is for us."  And then there was us...  None of us knew how to waltz and even with a crash course the week before (all expenses paid) we were stiff and clumsy at best.  Despite this, it was enormous fun. The guys willing to dance were outnumbered by eager females so the three of us (Peter from Tennessee, Aaron from Michigan, and myself) got passed around quite a bit.  It's probably the most fun I've ever had dancing and that's without any liquid courage.
I'm remember walking back to the hotel sometime around 5 in the morning with extremely sore feet and the widest of smiles.  It was a truly a night to be remembered for the rest of one's life. Aaron and I came out of our shells, Peter fell in love with a girl, and an imperial tradition was infiltrated by a troupe of Americans of no particular Royal lineage or wealth.  I'm thankful for the times I live in.