Eli | Mike | Mary - click for individual bio

August 29, 2003

Thursday Night at the World on Wheels

Looking at the scrapes on my arm, I now see the inevitability of it all. The scrapes are from me desperately lunging for the purple carpeted railings on the inside “slow lane” of the roller rink as other, more experienced skaters effortlessly glide past, rippling like cool water across the floor. These folks at the World on Wheels are serious. You can tell they’ve been doing this for years and years—they can dance on their skates! I mean really dance—a little sway of the hips, a dip of the head, all locked effortlessly into the ‘70’s soul grooves blasting from the ceiling (it was oldies night). Mary can do this, of course. So can Reena, which is good, because we were there for her birthday. She skated with a tiara and wanted to wear a feather boa, but the guy at the desk where you get your skates said no, it’s dangerous. “See that picture?” The guy at the desk gestured to a woman’s framed photo on the wall. “She died here. That’s why you can’t skate with boas.” At least, I think that’s what he said. Died at a roller rink? From wearing a boa? Suddenly a chill descended over World on Wheels. Doesn’t seem quite so fun any more, does it?

So, anyway, yes, I fell down. Repeatedly. I could practice, of course, maybe work out a few skate-dance moves myself (The Wobble? The Flop?), but, as Mary pointed out, it’s not really too high on my priority list, is it? That’s not to say that I didn’t have fun: the absolute best part of the evening was watching the regulars bring in their custom roller skates! Yes! No rentals for them—I guess it’s like bringing your own bowling ball to the alley, except a bowling ball is just a ball, whereas this was quality, stylish footwear with little wheels attached! I saw skates on blue suede boots. I saw skates on Timberlakes. I even saw one fella with what appeared to be wingtip dress shoe skates. Some of the skaters had nylon protective covers over theirs, like a dusting of November snow over a crop of wild mushrooms. However, I should say that Matt Ramirez and I did think of a couple of shoe styles that we didn’t see represented in skate form, but definitely should be. Here’s what we came up with:

1. Pointy elf shoe skates (for Christmas).
2. Stiletto heel skates.
3. Dutch wooden clog skates (Mary should like that one).
4. Mucklucks.
5. House slippers.
6. Footsy pajamas, the kind with the little booties attached. That way you could skate and then immediately go to sleep, which is what I needed after last night. Either that or a beer.

Is roller skating considered a “sport?” I thought it was, since it requires grace and coordination, neither of which I have. There is one exception: although now out of practice, I am an exceptionally good thumb-wrestler. I have long, slender thumbs, you see, and I am willing to bet that I could wail all over anyone’s ass who might be reading this. I have, in the past, thumb wrestled two people simultaneously (one opponent per thumb) and bested them both. I’m not really trying to brag here, but it’s my one sporty ability and I think it should be celebrated. I think I could have even turned pro! I had my thumb wrestling persona all worked out—I would be called Bluefly Blue. I’d have a costume: blue tights, sequined blue “Lone Ranger” mask, a blue cape trimmed with white fur. I could even make a movie about thumb wrestling, kind of like Sly Stallone’s Over The Top. I’d be this guy who drives trucks by day and thumb wrestles at night. There would be an evil Soviet thumb wrestler who kills my best friend, and then someone who kidnaps my daughter and I have to thumb wrestle for her freedom! The villain would be played by Telly Savalas, of course. Except that he’s dead.

So the thumb wrestler in me respects the skaters of World on Wheels, even if I can never be one of them; they were all graceful, polite, and styling. I think of them now with some wistfulness. There was this pair of skates in a glass case by the rink’s exit, you see. They were made of some kind of rubberized fabric, bright red, shaped like a Buck Rogers rocket ship. They were beautiful, roller skates for another age, and yes, I wanted them, wanted them badly, but they were not meant for me—they are for the men and women of World on Wheels, who could use them best. I understand and accept this. Roll on, good children, roll on.

Eli