What would growing up in a small town be without a roller rink? I mean, seriously?! Town had the coolest roller rink ever. It had an ACTUAL wood floor, unlike some that had the painted cement floor. Geez, that was just painful on the butt cheeks when you fell. Not that the wood floor was a down filled mattress by any means. It was just...different.
Many a Friday night I spent at the roller rink in town. My cousin, Tanya, and I would wait outside for a half hour before the place opened to guarantee we got the "good skates." Not the grimy white ones with the mismatched wheels, the awesome tan ones with the orange wheels. All the late comers got the old white ones that had seen zillions of feet before theirs did and I was not going to be one of the latecomers. I mean, who really knew who's feet had been in them last? Yick.
A buck fifty got you in the door AND skate rental. Mom always gave me four bucks so I could get a bag of chips and a soda and a candy bar. Two-fifty was a lot of money in the late 70's/early 80's! I could get three cups of Double Cola for seventy-five cents, a bag of chips for twenty-five cents and two Super Ropes for fifty cents and STILL go home with a buck in my pocket! (To spend on Razzles downtown in the morning.)
Many a romance started at the good ole Roller Rink. At least, that is what I heard. I really didn't give a crap because boys were icky.
Couple's skate Guys Choice was always a dud. Because 11 year old boys don't really want to ask a girl to skate and hold hands. That would be lame and besides their friends would laugh at them.
I remember the first time a boy asked me to couple skate. We had gone all the way thru school together since kindergarten and here, in my ripe old age of 11, I was being asked by a guy to couple skate. Ok, what could it hurt. I mean, we have known each other for years. Sure, what the heck, let's skate. The floor lights dimmed and the strains of "Lost In Love" by Air Supply filled the rink. Ah, the ambiance. The music. The romance. The...sweaty hands.
Dear God, it was everything I could do to hang on to his hand as we circled the floor. My partner was a very nice kid and a lot of fun to hang around and play kickball with, but, he was not exactly Gene Kelly on skates. He kept his left foot firmly on the floor and pushed with his right toe stop. It made for a herky jerky skate in my well polished and graceful skating, but I slowed down just so he wouldn't feel bad. We would exchange small talk- "I like this song." "Me, too." "I have this record." "My sister does." "Did you play Space Invaders yet?" "No."
He sure knew how to woo a girl. Especially in his blue satin disco shirt with a beaded necklace around his neck and his flared tough skins. Eat your heart out John Travolta.
Couple's Skate Girls Choice- now THAT was the big winner. I have determined that girls were way more forward than boys. They would skate right up to a guy and just ask them to skate. The guy would grab her hand and off they would go. Oh, so simple, right?
Wrong. I would start to skate up to some guy and inevitably, someone else would get there first. The pretty girls always had their pick of guys. Us plain girls, well, it was a little more difficult and had to settle for second string. It was at that point that I would change direction and head over to the Asteroids game.
There was one boy when I got into middle school who I always wanted to ask to couple skate but I never got up the guts. Jason. Aaaah, Jason. The dreamboat of the seventh grade. He was so cute, so funny and so nice that every girl in seventh grade was in love with him. But he was not a self absorbed cocky kid. Au contraire! He was really a nice down to earth kid who was friendly to everyone. I was always admiring his amazing skating skills from afar. I mean, he could skate BACKWARDS for cry-yi-yi! Several times I attempted to skate up to him, but I always chickened out at the last minute. Ah, me.
The rink was the place to be if you were between the ages of 9 and 13. Once you hit high school, the roller rink became obsolete because of football games (which I played in the pep band and never watched the game) and school dances (that I generally skipped my freshman year because I was too afraid to go to). I would still occasionally go along with Tanya when she asked even though it was considered "uncool" to hang out at the rink. But frankly, I never really cared. I was with my best friend in the world.
Well, as time went by and age differences being what they are, I outgrew the roller rink. (I never outgrew my cousin though.) I hung up my skates and bid adieu to the video games, the couples skate and the fast skate.
Recently, I took my kids to the local roller rink. I was going to amaze everyone with my awesome skating skills and my ability to skate backward and then forward and dance about the floor like those amazing roller disco guys you see on Venice Beach.
Yeah, no such luck. I put on my rental skates (these were grimy white ones with mismatched wheels. Must have been a latecomer) stood up and immediately felt the world tilt. Not only did it tilt, it shifted to the point of where my feet started running in place- like you see on Bugs Bunny Cartoons where he is running but not getting anywhere- and I scrambled to keep an upright position. I started to fall backward and hoped that I would hit the chair I stood up from. I did. Sort of. I hit the chair edge and promptly slid like a sack of meat to the floor, my legs spread eagled in front of me, my back against the edge of the chair, my backside smarting and my face flaming.
"Mom? Are you alright?" my daughter, bless her heart, seemed to be truly concerned that I was hurt. I could have hugged her.
I could have kicked my husband. He was nearly doubled over, face red from restrained laughter trying not to laugh. He had his hands on his thighs and he was trying so very hard to look concerned about my injured posterior, "You ok?"
"No." I painstakingly got off the floor while my husband was choking on his laughter with tears streaming down his cheeks. Gathering the shreds of what was left of my dignity, I removed the offending shoes of death and put on my sensible tennis shoes. I returned my skates to the smirking attendant and spun on my heel to fetch my son and play video games.
So much for comebacks, eh?
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