A plethora of Purim parties

Never in a million years did I think I’d be spending Purim pedaling away on a stationary bicycle, dressed as Indiana Jones, in order to power a DJ playing “Bubble Butt” by Major Lazer.

But that’s what I did recently at IKAR. 

There were parties all over town last week as the Jews of Los Angeles got a little crazy — and creative — in their Purim celebrations. My party-hopping over two nights took me from IKAR’s decidedly unorthodox Purim Justice Carnival to a hot-and-heavy dance party that could have been straight out of Tel Aviv.

But one tip before attempting such an adventure: Be sure to wear all the pieces of your costume at all times, even when they might be a little uncomfortable. Otherwise, some local rabbinical student like Aviva Funke might mistake your Indiana Jones costume for the much more dated Danny Zuko of “Grease.” 

I learned this the hard way March 4 during the IKAR carnival, after taking off my itchy Jones hat and walking around with only a leather jacket. Problem is, Zuko also wears a jacket and, without the archaeologist-adventurer’s hat, well, you get the picture. 

Still, Funke did not put me in too much of a funk. My spirits were high during IKAR’s festivities, held at the Westside JCC. The event kicked off with a reading of the Scroll of Esther that parodied everyone from Stephen Colbert to Taylor Swift and concluded with Cantor Hillel Tigay’s straight rendition of “Hey Jude.”

“Now, let’s party like it’s 5775,” Rabbi Sharon Brous said to the crowd, which numbered approximately 300 people, signaling it was time for the carnival to begin. 

Inside the adults-only party — a separate kids-only party coincided — the crowd mixed drinks with tikkun olam. Adam Wergeles, husband of IKAR Executive Director Melissa Balaban, beckoned me to his booth to help make peanut butter-and-jelly sandwiches for the homeless. I made two — then hit the nearby food line to purchase some grub of my own. (Curry-flavored french fries — yum! )

Then, IKAR volunteer Beth Edelstein, dressed as a Boy Scout, asked if I would fill the 9:30 p.m. slot on one of three stationary bicycles that were delivering electricity to the nearby DJ booth, the evening’s source of Motown oldies, contemporary hip-hop and groovy pop music. When it was my turn, I took one last sip of my bourbon and pedaled at a leisurely pace.

Later, on the dance floor, I acted as though I wasn’t offended when Brous came over and teased me for standing in place and doing little more than tapping my toes. Still, it would have been tough to compete with the arm-waving, clapping and boogying Brous. Dressed as Medusa in a black dress and an elaborate leafy headpiece, she was joined by her husband-cum-dance partner, David Light, who was dressed up as a piñata.

The theme of the night, the Justice League, was a celebration of the IKAR commitment to social justice work. Many attendees wore costumes inspired by the D.C. Comics superhero team of the same name, including IKAR board member Scott Minkow (Robin, the Boy Wonder) and his partner, Bill Deliman (Batman).  

“This is where justice happens,” Deliman told me when I asked him what he was doing there. 

Balaban and her husband dressed as a pair of a different sort. She was Cruella de Vil of “101 Dalmatians,” hair dyed with silver streaks, and he was dressed up as her Dalmatian, large black spots decorating his white, hooded sweatshirt. And in a risqué, “50 Shades”-like touch, Balaban was walking Wergeles on a dog leash.

“It’s hard to get my husband to dress up,” Balaban told me, “but he does it for Purim.” 

I empathized with the pressure. I donned my Indiana Jones costume again March 5, the next night of partying, keeping my hat on all night so as to avoid any confusion with you-know-who. 

My first stop was at Rabbi Yonah Bookstein’s party, which drew approximately 50 partygoers to Pico Shul. There they drank wine, beer and whiskey and ate hamantashen while Bookstein played Matisyahu’s “One Day” on acoustic guitar, using Rebbetzin Rachel Bookstein’s credit card as an unlikely guitar pick. 

Afterward, a friend, Eliyahu Abramson, and I drove to Hollywood for Aviel Altit’s TLV Productions’ club night held at the Emerson Theatre. Hundreds showed up, a line snaking across the sidewalk of Hollywood Boulevard as people waited to go inside. I waited with them, feeling silly in my Indiana Jones hat as those around me looked like they were ready for a regular night on the town.   

In a phone interview before the event, Altit, 28, CEO of TLV Productions, said he planned the Purim event as a way to recapture the energy of the Tel Aviv party scene, which is drastically different from how it is here in the U.S, he said. 

“I grew up in Tel Aviv. The parties over there are different — all the people who go for Taglit [Birthright Israel] who visit Israel, they love the parties over there,” he said. “It’s a different style.” 

Numerous organizations co-sponsored the event, including the Israeli-American Council and Israeli House, he said.

At the front of the line, a pair of women with identical Batman face-paint crossed my name off the guest list as I arrived, and pulsating electro beats awaited me inside. I was a good sport, made my way to the center of the dance floor, found a place among the throngs of Israeli girls dressed in skimpy outfits that barely passed for clothes — let alone Purim costumes — and danced with my eyes closed. 

Not a bad day at the office.