Friday morning started off normally enough, except that on most Fridays, I don’t pack heels and pantyhose in my bookbag. After two thankfully uneventful classes, Leonid Vladimirovich cut Ethnic Studies halfway short, explaining that he’d rather save the lesson for a class when there were more than three attendees. Not a problem for me. My dear friend Kristin brought a violin to Russia and was going to play it for the ball, but she changed her mind; being amazing, she gladly let me play her violin for the day anyway. I spent the extra forty-five minutes practicing in an empty classroom and left in a fantastic frame of mind, which always happens when I’ve done my first decent fiddling in a while. :)
Getting ready for the ball was nothing short of madness, with a good thirty girls all trying to do each other’s hair and makeup in the same tiny classroom—in hooped petticoats. Apparently the costumer double-booked a few of the dresses, so I ended up with the second dress I’d tried on the day I went, but honestly, the one I thought I’d be wearing looked fantastic on Meghan. And I pulled off the purple sparkly number with crushed velvet sleeve things quite well, if I do say so myself. I don’t really have to, though; you can judge for yourselves from the picture below. :D (I made the bag myself, out of a plain white handkerchief. Why do ball gowns not have pockets? :P) Megan (yes, we have two Megans) did something lovely with my hair without putting any sort of sticky stuff on or into it, which I greatly appreciate, and I made my escape from the green room and set about my normal activity at a formal dance function: taking silly pictures of people. :)
Eventually, Anya managed to herd us all into the Bolshoi Zal (creatively named ‘Big Room’), and the ball began in earnest. We stood in a circle to listen to Katya encouraging us all to flirt in her opening remarks, toasted each other with glasses of champagne, then paired up for the polonaise. I’m not sure whose idea of a circle we were processing in, but Hayley and I acquitted ourselves very nicely. Right after this, I played a set of five fiddle tunes that I could probably play in my sleep at this point, but which sound appreciably complicated. I informed the group beforehand that ‘this is not stand-at-rapt-attention music; this is go-be-sociable music,’ but they seemed to pay rapt attention anyway. Best of all, several couples started dancing when I got to the two reels that finished my set. :D:D:D:D It was a blast to play, a blast to watch, and very, very well received. Ella was even kind enough to get a few pictures of me playing in the ball gown; I think the one below shows me playing that old favorite, the Tuning Song. :) Russian Chorus sang right afterward, and I accompanied our duet and (cunningly, so I thought) set the tune *beforehand*. I can’t say it was a great success, but Irina Gennadyevna was happy, and we didn’t manage to embarrass ourselves too badly. :)
But, at some point, the violin was stashed back behind the podium, and the dancing continued. I waltzed with five different men and experienced five vastly different versions of the waltz: girl leading (Daniel), nobody leading (Matt), girl and guy both trying to lead (Adam), guy leading with the wrong foot (Wes), and a normal waltz, but slightly faster than the tempo of the music (Eric). I polka-ed with Liz and managed to not step on either of our gowns, though I can’t say the same for Dasha in front of me. I took part in a ball game that was sort of a cross between London Bridge, tag, Red Light Green Light, and the polka. And in between these dances, I socialized, took more silly pictures, and availed myself of the refreshments in the next room. (Whoever thought to provide sandwiches was very, very smart, because almost none of us had eaten dinner.) I don’t have a large number of pictures from this event, but there will be more and much better photos than the ones I have, because three professional photographers captured the entire event. They even caught such memorable moments as Lou and me dancing the ‘eighth grade waltz’ and Lauren adjusting my hairstyle. :)
Nominally, there was a story woven into the evening, based on a play by Mikhail Lermontov that vaguely resembles Shakespeare’s Othello in its summary. Basically, Katya was supposed to lose a bracelet, and Jeremy (playing her husband) was supposed to assume she had given it to someone else, as a sure sign of infidelity. In fact, the bracelet was stolen by three crafty thieves. After trying and failing four times to start this drama with a musical cue, on the fifth try, Katya fainted into a chair and Nick, Adam and Daniel dashed out the door. I screamed something about Katya’s honor being maligned and accused the three boys on the path of having stolen her bracelet…at least, I think I did, having made up everything except ‘Gospoda!’ (Oh my God!) and ‘He stole the bracelet!’ about an hour before the ball. Jarlath took this as his cue to call the Three Musketeers (himself, Brent, and Jay) together to save the hostess’s honor. (The Three Musketeers weren’t in Lermontov’s play, and I’m reasonably sure they weren’t in Othello…but, you know what, who cares?) They dashed out the door, and so did half the audience, for the better view. Sadly, I left my camera inside, but I’m sure someone got some good shots of the six-person (okay, three two-person) swordfight(s) that followed. They actually didn’t look half bad, for amateurs; Nick told me later that they’d been beaten into something resembling shape the day before by a professional fencing instructor. The bad guys were vanquished, the good guys returned Katya’s bracelet, assorted young women swooned over the Musketeers, and we all returned to the hall for our last round of dancing.
At some point in here, Brent took charge of the playlist, so the waltzes were replaced by more traditional prom music: heavy beat, not a lot of melody. We were all getting fairly tired by this point, though, so it was just as much fun to groove to the new beat in our ball gowns and velvet suits. Even Irina Borisovna got in on the action, and watching our diminutive Belorussian coordinator dancing to rap in a white ball gown was just…amazing. :D Just before the end of the dancing, Katya called us all together to announce the King and Queen of the Ball. We’d been submitting our votes all evening, along with little ‘post of love and affection’ notes (-grin-), at a table just outside the dancing room. I’d been expecting it to be a close race between Melissa and Sasha, so I was COMPLETELY taken by surprise when my name was announced! I accepted the tiara Katya slid into my hair and the rounds of applause from my friends with no small degree of embarrassment, but…you know what? It’s kind of nice to be the center of attention sometimes. :) Becca, who’d come in male costume and had been acting the part superbly all evening, was elected King, and the two of us celebrated with a dance and the following photo, courtesy of Wes. (I did give the tiara back, so it can be used for next year’s Queen.)
After one or two more dances, the ball was over, and forty-some tired attendees made their way downstairs and changed out of costumes. Many of the group went out for a post-ball party, and I would have liked to as well, but I realized when I sat down that my feet would probably fall off (or maybe just shrivel up and disappear) if I tried to walk as far as the Metro. Instead, I walked home, made a cup of tea, downloaded my photos, and sat down to write my week’s worth of blog posts. And now, I’m going to bed, in the hope that my muscles will recharge quickly. Maybe I could have danced all night, but I think four hours was enough. :)
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