I never went to a high school dance, but here I am, swirling around the dance floor beneath the gilded ceiling of the Musikverein. Thank goodness for my dashing dance partner, nimbly navigating our path among the Viennese beau monde as we waltz, rumba, and even polka, which is reminiscent of Disneyland's Mad Tea Party ride for me.
We're spinning so quickly that I'm not sure if my feet are touching the floor half the time. Balls are big in Vienna. The televised Opera Ball is the biggest and most well-known, but the Philharmonic Ball is even more exclusive and elegant.
A formal procession welcomes the guests of honor, which included the Princess of Thailand this year, then the debutantes take to the floor for a beautifully choreographed opening. It's pretty intimidating to go down right away and dance with all the debutantes, since a crowded dance floor can be a little bit like bumper cars. But I down my glass of sekt and join the fray.
Single ladies can find a dance partner near the stage at what's called the herreninsel β or island of men. These taxi-dancers are from the hosting dance school and waltzed in the opening ceremony, so you're sure to be in good hands. Or, like my international girlfriends and me, you can hire your private escort taxi-dancer for the entire evening.
Hours earlier, we were nibbling Imperial torte far tastier than the ubiquitous Sacher torte and drinking Champagne in the Royal Suite at the Hotel Imperial across the street, where everyone from Queen Elizabeth to Lady Gaga has stayed, while getting our hair and makeup done for the evening. The Viennese waltz is double the speed of the English waltz, and you're always spinning clockwise.
