Burns Night Reeling Ball NYC: One of the Best Events I’ve Ever Been To

Going to so many events in New York City gives you a pretty good sense of what’s actually going to be an EVENT—and what’s really just an expensive night out for the Gram. Sometimes you’re there to meet people. Sometimes you’re there to meet a person. Sometimes you’re just there to be entertained.

The Burns Night Reeling Ball in NYC was an EVENT!

Let me tell you: I’ve spent more money on Broadway shows, rooftop parties, and ball-adjacent spectacles like the Bridgerton Experience that were nowhere near as fantastic, entertaining, delicious, or—frankly—life-affirming. This may, in fact, be one of the greatest events I’ve ever been to in New York City. Let’s talk about it.

I walked into the Burns Night Reeling Ball expecting a polite cultural-evening vibe. Robert Burns is the Bard of Scotland, so I figured a couple of poems, maybe one whiskey-based drink (followed by cheap red or white—your choice), and a basic catered meal. You know the kind: edible, but generally meh.

Instead, I got a fantastically delicious, highly organized, deeply boozy, and wildly sincere night of Scottish culture, community-building, and live entertainment.

Poetry readings were paired with skits and energetic blessings of both the haggis and the whiskey (important note: you are meant to pour whiskey on the haggis). A live bagpiper paraded us between event spaces. Thoughtful cocktails accompanied excellent food—and yes, I know you can’t get real haggis in America. What we had was more of a “haggis helper,” if you will, but it was bangin’. The night wrapped with a live band in the ballroom, surrounded by wonderful company—Scots, Americans, and everyone in between—celebrating being human together.

Held at Club 3 West (the former Carnegie Garden), the venue alone made the night feel special—deeply Old New York. I didn’t know a soul when I arrived, but the moment I started chatting, I was immediately welcomed and fully drawn in as one of the Scots.

I am of Scottish descent, but I know very little about that half of my heritage. Riding entirely on my maiden name (Rea, formerly of the MacRae Clan), I set out to find my clansmen. Instead, I found something better. The crowd wasn’t just Scottish people doing a Scottish thing. There were actual Scots, Brits, New Yorkers, and plenty of hybrids like me. Some had ancestry stories. Others didn’t. Everyone was there for one reason: Scottish dancing in NYC, and the promise that you’d dance for hours with strangers and actually enjoy it.

The dress code was black-tie Highlander (thank GOD everyone understood the assignment—because wow, do I love a kilt), but the vibe wasn’t stiff or museum-like. Yes, Robert Burns is the reason the night exists, but he wasn’t treated like a sacred statue. The feeling was: he was alive, he was messy, he was brilliant—and tonight, so are we. The energy matched. Warm. Loud. Slightly chaotic, in the best way.

There was a formal theme—strengthening Anglo-American relations—which sounds dry on paper. In practice, it looked like people from different backgrounds laughing together, sharing tables, passing whiskey, learning each other’s names and traditions, and holding hands while dancing in massive groups. It was joy. It was laughter. A love of Scotland, and a love for one another.

So we drank the whiskey (mine cut with water from the actual river the whiskey was made from), stabbed the haggis, gossiped with our neighbors, and went into full detail about what an (pardon the Western vernacular) absolute ho bag Burns was. By the end of dinner, my ticket had already paid for itself—and we were only two-thirds of the way through the night. Special thanks to LeeAnn Petersen, co-founder of British Events D.C., for producing such a memorable evening.

Then came the dancing.

They handed out dance cards. Actual dance cards—one of those historical traditions you immediately wonder why we ever let die. You write your partner’s name next to each dance listed so there’s no awkward scrambling later. Pass your card around the table, mark the dances you absolutely cannot attempt, and enjoy yourself. Three minutes of commitment. Spin. Laugh. Release.

I did not know the dances.

This did not matter.

Scottish reeling is built for the confused. You’re dropped into a set, someone calls the steps, and suddenly you’re flying through patterns you’ve never done before. I was dizzy and thrilled in equal measure—learning on the fly, following whoever looked confident, and realizing two seconds too late that turn means TURN. (I also learned that with enough whiskey, a properly sprung ballroom floor, and last-minute Amazon dance shoes, I spin beautifully.)

The music was live. The fiddler was fiddlin’. The bagpipes were involved (kept at a respectful distance, but still bone-rattling). The room grew louder, faster, warmer. People who arrived alone suddenly found themselves dancing with ten new partners. Couples split up and reunited without a second thought, sharing partners for the sake of a good dance.

I got my fair share of bonnie lass comments—flattering for exactly as long as I wanted them to be. When I was ready to move on, I simply did. The room was full of gentlemen and ladies ready to dance, laugh, flirt, fall a little bit in love, and then spin away just as quickly.

By the end, I was sweaty, exhausted, and euphoric in that rare way that only comes from doing something physical, social, and deeply real. From ages 18 to 92, we danced, talked, cried, laughed, and lived. The next day, my toes were so swollen I briefly considered never wearing shoes again. Most of us barely took photos—because we were too busy being present. (I, of course, was on business for you, dear reader, so please enjoy whatever blurry images I could salvage after a dance quite literally called The Gallop.)

If the Burns Night Reeling Ball in NYC happens again next year, go. Don’t overthink it. Come with friends or come alone. Say yes to one dance. Then another. If you’re chasing that rare, cinematic feeling you usually only see on TV or read about in books, this outdoes it. You’ll leave with a reset nervous system, a few new acquaintances, and the satisfaction of having done something wildly uncynical in New York City.

And if you can snag a dance with hosts Gavin McNicoll and Tim FitzHigham, do it. Excellent dancers, sharp conversationalists, and—quite frankly—braw lads.

I’m going next time. No question. If you get a ticket, let me know—I’ll save you a dance on my card (and a whiskey in my hand if neither of us knows the steps).

If you can’t wait until the next ball, join a reeling class in NYC.
Email nycreeling@gmail.com for more information, and follow @nycaledonian for upcoming Scottish events in New York City.