Later today I’m leaving on a jet plane for Charlotte, North Carolina to speak at the She Speaks conference. Actually it’s not quite midnight here right now so the real truth is I’m leaving tomorrow, I’ll be lucky if the plane is anything more than a miniscule tube of death, and I’m only speaking at one session called “Blogging for Beginners”, which will basically consist of me standing in front of a room of people or maybe just six people and saying, “A blog is a journal that is on the internet. What? You have a question about writing code? Sorry, can’t help you but I love that shirt you have on. Where did you get it?”
I know it makes you sad to think that you’ll be missing out on such a vast wealth of world wide web knowledge.
Anyway, you might think that I’ve spent the day packing for my trip or at least making some sort of list of things I need to pack, but you would be wrong. I’m just going to throw a bunch of stuff in a small carry-on bag an hour before I leave and hope for the best. It’s like I don’t even know myself.
Part of the problem is that I had a busy day getting everything ready for the slumber party we’re throwing for Caroline’s birthday which happens to be the day after I get back from the conference. The other issue is we had another friend’s birthday party to attend for most of the afternoon. And not just any kind of party, but a party that involved this.
Yes. That is my foot in a roller skate. Please note that neither the carpeting nor the skates have changed since 1982 which was the last time I was in a roller rink.
I’ll tell you what else hasn’t changed; The pro shop that still sells beautiful white roller skates with hot pink wheels that make you want to take up professional roller skating because they are just that cool, the roller rink disc jockey who announces “Time for all you fast-skaters to get on the floor and show us what you’ve got!”, and the guy that’s way too old to be there, yet has all the best moves and spends the majority of the time skating backwards in his fancy black skates with white stripes while his long hair flows behind him like he’s the Fabio of the Magic Skate.
Caroline was invited to a roller skate party which caused me no small amount of distress because she’s never really skated. Santa Claus brought her some Disney Princess plastic skates for Christmas but he didn’t realize that her parents wouldn’t have an infinite amount of patience to teach a child to skate who insists that she knows what she’s doing only to fall flat on her bottom, so our skating experience has been limited.
My thought was that I’d put her in roller skates and I’d just stay in my shoes and help her keep her balance. It might have been a brilliant plan had I not worn flip-flops but it only takes 42 pounds rolling over your big toe once to make you rethink a strategy.
So I went and got myself a pair of size 8 skates circa 1976 when Disco Duck was king and hit the floor in spite of the fact that my center of gravity and bone density have significantly changed since the last time I donned a pair of skates. I figured at least a broken arm might make a good opener for my session at She Speaks. “I got this broken arm while I was roller skating yesterday. I totally lost my balance when I reached for the comb in my back pocket to brush out my wings.”
As it turns out, roller skating is kind of like riding a bike, it all comes back to you. In fact, for about thirty glorious seconds I even skated backwards which caused Caroline to scream to all her friends, “LOOK AT MY MAMA! SHE KNOWS HOW TO SKATE BACKWARDS!” That’s right, kids, Mama knows how to skate backwards because when she was a little girl Hollywood gave us quality movies like Skatetown U.S.A. and Xanadu that motivated you to hone your roller skating skills. At least I know that when she turns thirteen and starts to doubt my coolness and relevance, all I have to do is take her roller skating and remind her that I know how to skate backwards. I’m sure it will still be just as impressive.
By the end of the party, Caroline was getting the hang of it a little bit during the brief periods of time that she’d actually let go of the wall and move her feet as opposed to just pulling herself around the wall to achieve forward motion. Based on her enthusiasm for the loud music, the disco ball and the skates with hot pink wheels, I think we have a lot of skating in our future.
The whole experience was honestly like stepping into some sort of time warp where the employees, carpets and disco ball haven’t changed since 1978. What other establishment gives you that kind of experience other than maybe a Waffle House?
Not many, my friends. Not many.
And now I have to go pack or at least come up with reasons why it can wait until later.