My children never learned how to skate since roller skating rinks had long gone the way out with leg warmers, sleeveless sweatshirts, and beta machines. However, I purchased my ticket, laced up my shoes, and had visions of teaching my boys how to skate, while I lead them around the rink holding tight onto their hands. My friend, Andrew, asked if I knew how to skate. “Of course,” I answered. “At one time, I could even skate backward.” I then pushed myself off the bench and promptly rolled into the large orange lockers against the wall. I heard my children snickering behind me. Whoops, maybe this was not going to be as easy as I thought. Michael refused to put on skates, but Steffen tried and we went up and down the carpeted area on the side of the rink, until he grew tired and bored. Then, I slowly ventured out onto the rink. Cautiously taking tentative steps. Where was the confidence I had only a few moments ago?
I glided forward while pushing off with my other foot on the hard wooden surface, only once losing my balance and falling with a thud to my knees. “That’s going to leave a mark,” I thought, however after a couple turns I had found my steadiness and was enjoying the activity. Nevertheless, something wasn’t right—the music was all wrong and where were the lights changing the color of the floor? In addition, the clothes, arcade games and even the food was all wrong. However, we did the Hookie-Pookie in the middle of the rink, and speed races, although I opted not to participate. One time making a fool of myself was quite enough.
Later that night, I could feel the burn in my ankles, shins, and buttocks; however, it had been a blast from my past, and I enjoyed reliving old childhood memories, but next time I don’t think I will brag about knowing how to skate.