It's almost 1:00 am, and we just got home from the Bar Mitzvah we were guilted into going to. It was actually dreadful.
A Bar Mitzvah, you may or may not know, is a religious rite in which a Jewish boy of 13 demonstrates that he is ready to become an adult member of the congregation. He does this by reading a portion of the Torah during a Sabbath service. The Torah is actually the first five books of the Bible, inscribed in Hebrew on a rather large scroll.
An American Bar Mitzvah in the modern age is something else again. The religious service takes place on a Saturday morning, and is usually followed by the traditional light reception held in the synogogue. Then, if you'll excuse the expression, all hell breaks loose. A party is usually held that afternoon or evening that rivals a typical over-the-top wedding. Some are more or less elaborate than others; this one tonight wasn't quite obscenely garish, just typically.
There was a sports theme, which included the centerpieces on the table and probably the cake, which I didn't see before it was cut, as well as the dancers. Oh yes, my friends, there was an out-of-control DJ, complete with four women dancers wearing basketball shirts. Kind of like the Laker Girls. (Okay, not that racy.) When it was time to introduce the BM boy to the assembly, the DJ gave him an introduction as if he had just personally won the Superbowl, and then he danced in, accompanied by the four dancers, to the tune of the theme from 2001. Who then similarly danced in his parents and his little brother.
Time to light the candles! There are fourteen candles -- one for luck -- and the family will select people to honor by having them come up and light a candle. This time, though, the boy read a little piece of crappy verse poem to announce who was lighting each one, and then, as they were escorted to the front by the dancers, the DJ played what he must have thought was an appropriate song. The little brother got Pinball Wizard -- you know, "deaf, dumb and blind kid." Grandpa Joe and Grandma Rita got Lovely Rita Meter Maid. Uncle Ricky got Rikki Don't Lose That Number. Have you ever heard the words to that song?
And so on. It took over a half hour to light the candles on the damn cake, and then they played the kid off with the theme from Star Wars. Serious case of perspective in desperate need here.
The DJ was horribly loud, and stopped here and there to play party games with the kid's 40 or so friends who were there. I don't need to be a witness to children's games.
In other words, waaaaaaaay too much. The only one who lucked out was the FIL, who was having back pain and couldn't go. He got to stay home and watch movies on TV. So, a good night for him. For the rest of us, not so much.
In twelve hours, we will be back in the car and on our way for an afternoon dinner with the ILs. Will this weekend ever end?
