For an institution that attracts so many queer folk (based almost entirely on its selection of quality musical theater), PlayhouseSquare each year puts on a massive benefit that is generally perceived to have a non-queer vibe: the Jump Back Ball.

In all honesty, no Spangler had ever attended. (The phrase “heteronormativity … with ice-sculpture centerpieces!” may or may not have been bandied about the office.)

But the good folks at PlayhouseSquare extended an invite to its 19th edition on Saturday, where a black-tie and ball-gown crowd promised to pack the lobbies and stages of our local theater district for this year’s theme, Celebrate: Carnivale, bringing the best of Rio, Venice and New Orleans to Northeast Ohio for a colorful night lasting into the next day.

Never ones to shy away from an unfamiliar situation, we sent in intrepid Spangler Tim Marshall. And he not only survived, but seemed to have enough good times to file this report.

Downtown’s PlayhouseSquare may be the nation’s second largest theater district, but even its mammoth size had trouble containing the sold-out crowd that showed up Saturday for the 19th annual Jump Back Ball, a popular event where corporate hot shots, suburban socialites and up-and-coming local leaders press the flesh to raise money for the performing arts organization.

This year’s theme, Celebrate: Carnivale, was woven into pretty much every aspect of the night, from the “creative black-tie” dress code, where dapper fellows paired penguin suits with jeweled masks and ladies accessorized the most glamorous of ball gowns with feathers and beads galore, to the Cajun food to the street performers in various rooms of the Playhouse Square complex — not to mention the fact that the lavish open bar and hipster bands the Spazmatics and Skinny Moo signaled an open invitation to party like it was your last night on Earth (or the night before Lent, coming a little late for some of you).

The Jump Back Ball literally put each of its guests in the spotlight — as the stage of the State Theatre was converted to a dance floor for the night. Further adding to the spirit of the theme were fortune tellers, a casino on the State balcony, face painting, silent auctions and more. Well-executed for the most part, there were a couple of oddities — such as the prominent Jell-O-shot buffet table located in such a mature, stately space, and the first-floor men’s room, which some women didn’t realize was a men’s room, as the sign to the door was covered by another sign bearing the word “brothel” (I encountered at least one woman who got more than she bargained for when traipsing into what she thought was going to be an attraction like the Merchant of Venice photo op area on the other side of the lobby).

All in all, Celebrate: Carnivale was a fun, successful endeavor for Playhouse Square. Wish you were there? Checkout my rundown of the night, from the first toast at the VIP reception to the last few beats on the dance floor.


6:45 p.m.: Although everyone looks great, no one seems to have adhered to the adage of arriving fashionably late to this type of thing. The high-end ticketholders make such a mad dash to get into the VIP reception in the Palace Theater, the poor volunteer ushers are nearly trampled.

7:05 p.m.: Local celebrity chef Zach Bruell is doing a cooking demonstration of one his favorite recipes, but hardly anyone is catching it. Bruell shouldn’t take it personally, though, as what’s preoccupying the guests is the first-class nosh he brought from each of his four restaurants (L’Albatros, Parallax, Chinato and Table 45). A refined woman in jade satin is literally inhaling the spring rolls.

7:21 p.m.: I start to wonder if having an event with an open bar where guests are encouraged to wear peripheral-vision-reducing masks in a space with lots and lots of steps is a good idea. But that’s just paranoid little ol’ me talking.

7:32 p.m.: I run into the Burning River Roller Girls — literally. Eight members of the league are on hand to serve as event ushers, all in matching masks, gowns, and, of course, skates.

7:40 p.m.: Man, this place is crowded! Like you-get-elbowed-every-five-seconds-crowded. One particular offender apologizes twice. She introduces herself, but I’ve already dubbed her as “Tipsy Tina.” “These cocktails go straight to my husband’s head,” she says, laughing. Hubbie rolls his eyes, grabs her and elbows their way to the next room. That’s the type of marriage equality I’m fighting for.

7:50 p.m.: VIPs and general-admission guests converge in the State lobby where a DJ’s thumping beats cause folks in the buffet line to groove a little while loading up on Sammy’s fare.

8:05 p.m.: Found a cute bartender to flirt with, a key ingredient in the recipe for a fun night at an event.

8:28 p.m.: This is my first Jump Back Ball, so I didn’t know what to expect, but everyone I spy seems to be having the best time ever. Except for Tipsy Tina’s husband.

8:44 p.m.: I pony up to the buffet and meet a couple whose first date was the 12th annual Jump Back Ball. They really don’t appreciate my joke about the seven-year itch, but smile politely and hand me the tongs for the eggplant parmesan anyway.

9:06 p.m.: Overheard by two twentysomething ladies in line at the bar:

Pink dress: “There’s that cute guy again!”

Brown dress: “How do you know he’s cute? He’s wearing a mask.”

Pink dress: “I can just tell. Besides, if he’s not, I can always just ask him to put the mask back on if I need him to.”

9:12 p.m.: On my way to the State stage to catch the band, I see Tipsy Tina again. Her mask is upside down and crooked now and she’s still giggling. Classic.

9:18 p.m.: In front of the stage is a truckload of Jell-O shots. A PlayhouseSquare board volunteer who helped make them approaches me: “Let me know how they are, I’ve never made them before.”

I pop open the lid and struggle. “Did you spray the cups with Pam before you added the Jell-O?” I ask him.

“No — should I have?”

“Look around,” I say.

The nearby partygoers are awkwardly tongue-wrestling the disposable ramekins. One guy strains so hard his cummerbund nearly burst open.

9:20 p.m.: Note to self: Cummerbund is a really weird word.

9:30 p.m.: I’m having fun, but I feel like the queer quotient of the event is a little low. I could use some camp. Then, like magic, the funky Spazmatics take the stage and I get my wish:



10:21 p.m.: Tipsy Tina is spotted again with her mask on the right way. Her shoes, however, are nowhere in sight.

11:05 p.m.: I decide to stand in line for the fortune tellers. I meet a fun group of young lawyers who are all there to ask about their love lives. The one in line before me leaves wanting to get the psychic’s prediction in writing and notarized.

11:15 p.m.: The Creole card-reader tells me that I’ll be signing a contract soon. Could my long-held dreams of being a Quartermaine on General Hospital be coming true, folks?

12:15 a.m.: My VIP swag bag contains a little bottle of Absolut Berri Acai. How smart to put antioxidants in vodka!

12:32 a.m.: Even the Carnaval in Rio and the Carnevale in Venice have to come to an end sooner or later, and the Jump Back Ball is no exception. Kudos to Playhouse Square for making all of the guests feel like a star tonight. As they say in Brazil, “Vejo você no próximo ano!”

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