Although First Night is no longer celebrated in Providence, I have very fond memories of a performance I participated in one year. A very conservative lawyer friend had taken up belly dancing. She and two friends were so skilled in this talent that they were chosen to be performers for First Night. For an added “twist” to their act, my lawyer friend asked if she could borrow one of my son’s 5-foot-long boa constrictors for their dance. Although I had reservations, I said okay, knowing that it is always good to keep a lawyer friend happy because you never know when you will need her help.

The ladies came to our house, and practiced with the snake while my son, Steven, (who, with his Asperger’s, is an expert on snakes,) supervised. The practice went very well, and the ladies excitedly decided to bill their act as the “The Dance of the Snake Goddesses.”

When New Year’s Eve came, I reminded Steven that we had to take the snake to Providence for the act. He was mortified! There was no way HE was going to go where there were a lot of people in a confined space! He handed me a pillowcase to put the snake in, and promptly peddled off on his bike to destinations unknown. I panicked! The excited dancers were billed as the “The Dance of the Snake Goddesses” and they would have no snake! Feeling extremely obligated to provide them with a snake, I had no choice but to bring it myself. My hands were shaking as I undid the lock and took the cover off the tank.  It looked docile enough, just lying there. I reached in and managed to push it into the pillowcase using a long-sleeved pot holder. I tentatively carried the pillowcase to the living room, but had miscalculated by not securing the top properly. The snake’s head popped out, I pushed it back down. It popped out again, and when I tried to push it in, it wiggled away from my hand and came slithering out of the bag. There, on the floor of our living room, was a slithering five-foot-long snake! I screamed. My husband came to see what was going on, and he jumped up on the couch and screamed. Even though I was shaking and my first instinct was to smash the thing over the head with a shovel, I remembered my commitment to my lawyer friend. I gathered up my courage and, using the broom gently, I nudged it back into the pillowcase, this time immediately tying the top into a knot.

Still shaking from this experience but feeling tremendous relief, I drove to the city with the wriggling pillowcase on the seat next to me. I parked near the theater and bravely put the pillowcase inside my coat to keep it warm. There was a line around the building waiting to see the performance. Walking up to the head of the line, I quietly said to the guard at the door, “I have the snake for the performance.” In his loudest voice, he parted the crowd for me by saying “Make way for the snake handler. Make way for the snake handler!” I wanted to hide! Instead, this middle aged, shaking, nervous, dowdy woman, who no more resembled a snake handler than a chipmunk resembled Santa Clause, made my way into the building.

Once back stage with the snake, the belly dancers were very excited. They carefully took him (her?) out of the bag and began to practice. My stomach was in knots and I was shaking all over, but the snake had been delivered in one piece.

The audience in the large theater was packed, standing room only, as the provocative music began. The dancers dramatically began the act hidden behind veils, with my lawyer friend holding the tail of the snake in one hand and the head at the other, draping its large body across her neck. They did a dramatic dance, dropping the veils at different intervals for the audience to get a glimpse of the snake. “Ooooohs” and “aaaaaahs” were heard. I was hoping the snake wasn’t going to slither down and into the audience causing mass panic, emptying the audience out into the street, trampling the snake. But something strange happened. As the dancers dropped their veils to the rhythm of the music, the snake seemed to join in the dance! Soon its head was wriggling, its tail was swaying around, and it seemed to be having a grand old time! It began to slither in time to the music (a pure coincidence I’m sure,) from one dancer to the next. It was an amazing sight, the graceful gyrating dancers, and the graceful gyrating snake, all moving in unison to the classic notes. Mesmerizing. Amazing. Unbelievable. The act finished to a standing ovation, and darn it if it didn’t seem as though the snake bowed his head in response to the clapping from the audience.

After the show, the dancers gave the snake a few affectionate pats and back into the pillowcase it went. I tied it in a knot, and put it under my coat to the car. Tears of relief stung at my eyes. I’d come through this adventure unscathed, with a little more respect for the reptile in the pillowcase that was sitting close to my heart.