One of my closest friends will be getting married in three weeks. As if that wasn’t exciting enough, her hubby-to-be is also a very good friend of mine (isn’t it great when two friends get married??) Anyway, the bride’s family is Jewish and the groom’s is Catholic, so a mixed-religion ceremony will be done at a neutral location. When we started asking the bride about what religious traditions will be incorporated into their day, the one I was most curious about was the Hora, more commonly known as the Jewish “chair dance.” Essentially, the bride and groom are lifted up on chairs as everyone dances in a circle around them…doesn’t that just sound incredibly fun?!?
I am determined to make this happen, seeing as there will be no yamakas or stomping on the glass. Since I am unaware of the proper etiquette associated with the Hora, I was inquiring into how the dance gets initiated (aka, can a slightly hyper, non-Jewish bridesmaid request slash demand the celebratory dance take place, or are there more formalities involved?) Just then, my other close friend reminded me that I don’t do particularly well with people being lifted into the air. Damn. In my excitement, I forgot all about the incredible anxiety that would inevitably ensue should I happen to witness the Hora in person.
Not only do I feel that falling to one’s death is probably the most terrible way to die, but I also just don’t like the idea of falling in general. When your landing is not ideal, you can most certainly count on bruises, sprained joints, broken bones, or even paralyzing injuries. There are simply too many stories out there serving as shining examples of what happens when you take a bad fall.
As a result, I get incredibly anxious when I am around anyone who has the potential to fall – children on a swing set, people riding piggy-back, spectators in the front row of the balcony section, and more than likely, a bride and groom being hoisted into the air on rickety chairs held by their intoxicated friends and family. This may not go so well.
Upon seeing such “dangerous” situations, I have been known to close my eyes, change seats, have my own little version of a panic attack, and even leave the area completely. Even if the moment passes without any trace of danger, my mind will play out the alternatively horrific ending regardless. It is a terrible little movie that only I can see, but that haunts me until I can find something to divert my attention to something else.
Yeah, maybe my friend is right. We could probably do without the chair dance. Although it sounds fun, it could be hora-ble.