Skate City

Went skating this evening for the second time in my adulthood.  I think that brings me to perhaps a total of 5 times in my lifetime.  Needless to say, I am not very good at this whole skating thing.  I’m sure it has nothing to do with the fact that my sense of balance is never very good, even when not attempting to travel with wheels attached to my shoes.  Who came up with this bizarre pasttime anyway?

The truth is I had a great time.  Of course, I went skating with my nieces, which pretty much assured me of having a good time.  I adore them both and take great delight in spending time with them.  I should be grateful that neither of my nieces are experts in the skating rink either, and therefore do not leave me in their dust like many of the other munchkins on the rink’s floor.

T.S. in particular likes for me to skate with her.  So, over and over, we maneuvered our way around the rink, with the wall as our prop and savior.  A.J. had a bear in her arms for half the night, after receiving it from an older child who won it in a raffle and wished to pass it on.  Therefore she skated with one arm waving for balance and the other arm clutching that bear, as if the bear was her prop.  If I had had a stuffed bear at the skating rink, I think I would have wanted it strapped to my ass for additional padding (not that there’s not plenty of padding already there), but that’s just me.

At some point during the evening, I had to go to the restroom, so I left the two girls skating together (A.J. made a face at my command, but then appeared to have fun with her sister despite her reluctance — isn’t that the way of siblings everywhere?) and headed for the facilities.  I now believe that Skate City’s bathrooms were designed by some kind of torture enthusiast.  Upon entering the women’s restroom, I was appalled to realize there were no pads on the floor.  Of course, this realization came a little too late as I flew in the doorway, leaving the carpeted hallway behind and hurtling at breakneck speed across the tile floor toward a stall door.  All I could think is “god I hope no one’s in that stall, because I’m going to land in her lap!”

Luckily the stall was empty.  I slammed into the door and managed to catch myself on the top of the door, which was so short that I gave myself whiplash as my head bounced forward over the top of the stall door and back.  I think those stall doors were designed for midgets.  Did they not consider the fact that adults might also be idiot enough to don roller skates and come flying through their restroom doors?

After entering the stall, I was appalled to realize that the toilet was only about a foot off the ground. On roller skates, I somehow managed to lower myself four feet where I took care of business with my knees in my face (when my feet weren’t flying out from under me of course).  The worst part was trying to extricate myself and stand back up.  It required a sense of balance (see above), inhuman strength (not one of my assets) and wheelchair bars (which were not in evidence at all).  With my feet scrambling for purchase, I used the bottom of the stall to haul myself forward and up.  Thank god the restroom was empty and no one heard my growls and curses as I attempted to lift my carcass from that damn toilet.

Note to self:  NEVER ATTEMPT TO USE THE RESTROOM WHILE ON ROLLER SKATES AGAIN.

Truthfully, despite the crazy bathrooms, we had a great time, A.J., T.S. and I.  I'm looking forward to when my nephew C.S. is in kindergarten and can join us on these school-sponsored events. Yep, lots of fun flying into the walls with less-adventurous parents looking on.

When I asked T.S. whether her parents skated with her when they brought her to these things, she said no.  I asked why I had to skate then and she said, “because you’re a nice aunt.”  I guess I cannot ask for a better reason than that.  The things we do for love.