Cars filled the rink’s parking lot, as expected on a Friday night. Teenagers and college students congregate at skating facilities on date nights. These evenings are not suited to serious practice or showing off one’s freestyle prowess. Although Neil asked about my skating hobby, I chose not to elaborate. I explained that I liked to roller skate as a kid and did a little rink skating in high school and college. I could have told him that I skated freestyle, but truthfully, after practicing so little during my college years, many of my skills had dissipated. This might have also spawned Neil’s curiosity, inviting questions about competition and my level of ability.
Laymen generally ask one of two questions when someone says he or she knows how to skate. Most people have seen enough ice skating on television, if only to catch a glimpse of pretty girl in a short skirt, to memorize a common skating term. The most popular skating move television commentators point out is probably the axel, usually a double or triple. The viewer may not know how an axel differs from other jumps or even that an axel is a jump rather than some other trick, but he learns and repeats this word like a parrot.
“Can you do an axel?” the layman will ask a friend who skates, pleased with himself for using skating terminology. Unfortunately, the axel is the most difficult jump in freestyle skating. Most adult skaters have to admit that they cannot do an axel. Then the friend looks disappointed, though he does not know what an axel is or why doing one is significant. The skater subsequently feels embarrassed because she no longer seems to be a ‘good skater’ as claimed moments before the revealing axel question.
“Can you skate backwards?” is the other question people ask skating acquaintances.
Because casual observers usually cannot differentiate between jumps, spins and footwork; an individual who can skate backwards commanding the ice or skating surface amazes them. Conveniently, skating backwards is a more basic skill than an axel, and most recreational skaters can demonstrate some type of backward stroking or crossovers. The person who says she can indeed skate backwards usually receives flattering comments from her impressed non-skating friends. If asked to demonstrate, many adult skaters cannot command the ice in backward crossovers like the competitors featured on television. While their friends may not understand the nature of the discrepancy; the skater probably drags her toe picks, moves with abrupt strokes in an awkward rhythm, and is incapable of skating with speed. Excellent backward skating may be as difficult to accomplish as learning an axel.
Not only did I suspect that Neil was savvy enough to ask the dreaded axel question, I did not want to bring up the subject of childhood skating which still harbored unresolved emotions for me. Neil seemed to come from a happy family, and I chose not to discolor the evening with an unpleasant story about my parents not allowing me to take skating lessons. Therefore, I did not tell Neil about my love of skating or what it represented throughout my life. Instead, I maintained the casual but dispassionate enthusiasm anyone who skated on sidewalks and for adolescent social outings might demonstrate.
Inside the rink, colorful lights flashed and loud music blared. I was definitely getting older since I did not recognize any of the obnoxious tunes. Young people shouted, laughed and talked creating a confusing din with the music. They skated in the carpeted lobby as much as they did on the wooden floor; which brimmed with adolescents holding hands, stumbling and chasing each other. Even though Devin and I used to skate during evening sessions, none were this disorderly. I could barely hear Neil above the noise.
I evaluated the light brown rental boots with fondness and contempt before pushing my feet into them. The thin leather upper folded from wear and deterioration. Hundreds of feet occupied the boots over the years and conditioned them to buttery softness. Grubby hands, dirty socks and perspiration created a mottled patina on their inner and outer surfaces. Thousands of miles of counterclockwise laps eroded the faded orange wheels to a conical shape on one side. The other side appeared almost new. No one had bothered to maintain these skates. Even my cheap, battered department store skates looked superior to these miserable things.
Neil took my hand as we rose to our feet. The misshapen wheels caused me to almost lose my balance. They naturally wanted to turn counterclockwise even when the wearer stood still or tried to glide straight ahead. On those skates I looked like a beginner who had never skated before. I was glad I did not brag to Neil about my Ina Bauer, back camel and sit spin. He might expect to see me perform those moves regardless of the condition of the rental equipment. Non-skaters also tend not to realize the importance of decent, or at least, familiar skates. Neil might expect a self-proclaimed athlete to land an axel in a pair of strange, dilapidated boots.
We did not stay at the roller rink for more than an hour. The deafening music made my head pound and the crowd prevented freedom of movement. Teenage boys raced through the throng of skaters weaving, pushing and eventually falling in a heap. Bystanders tripped over their collapsed forms because they either lacked the ability to stop or had no place to turn for a convenient escape. The rink guards did little to control even the most reckless behavior. The place made money on weekends catering to people who were too young to lose control of themselves in bars and nightclubs. The crowd never diminished, and the teenagers seemed unaffected by the chaos around them. I was not disappointed to pull the old boots off my feet and return them to the rental counter.
Neil would have taken me to that roller rink every weekend had I wanted to go; however, I never asked to return. I could have called the rink to inquire about freestyle sessions and lessons, but I did not do that either. I did not own a car in Virginia and would have had to rely on Neil or a bus schedule to renew my interest in roller skating. If I did not commit to skating during my year of relaxation at home, I certainly would not do it in Virginia under less convenient circumstances and a rigorous graduate school curriculum. Had I not already realized my lack of improvement as a skater the previous summer while trying to skate in the garage; this experience in the crowded, unpleasant rink would have certainly obliterated any residual artistic roller skating fantasy.
Although Neil and I continued to see each other, that night marked the end of my life as a roller skater.
Although I saw Neil in the computer lab during the week, I did not eagerly anticipate our date. My classes, assistantship, and literature studies kept me sufficiently busy such that I never thought about having a relationship other than routine semi-monthly telephone conversations with Devin. However, as I concluded another exhausting week on Friday afternoon, I found myself excited about roller skating on a smooth wooden floor again. Neil picked me up that evening and we spoke pleasantly about our academic and career interests.
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