The minute I put on that wraparound lavender skirt and matching leotard in the 3rd grade I knew I had arrived. Much like my professional ah ha moment, walking into the local rink with carpeted walls, pinball machines and enough mullets to terrify the local NAMBLA chapter, I knew roller skating and me were in it for the long haul.
As a young lass in the 80s, the roller rink was the place to be. Not only did I get to sport that wraparound skirt and shake my ass (er, whip my hair) to Whitesnake, but the roller rink gave me a chance to hold hands with boys. Before the years of junior high dances roller skating provided the opportunity at a very young age to do the unthinkable … the couples skate! After a romantic lap around the rink to Journey we’d share a red rope and a giant pickle. Maybe a brick of pink popcorn if he was feelin’ lucky.
Once high school approached and kids were too cool for school to be seen at the rink, I bought a pair of my own skates. My best friend and I roller skated all day every day around town. In the hilly streets of the Bay Area we’d get sundaes at the local ice cream parlor and practice our sweet moves in any parking lot we came upon. When other girls were gettin’ busy with boys, I was gettin’ busy with my skates. My LTR with the skates came to an end sophomore year of high school when Jenny and I decided to “shoot the duck” on the way home. You know the move … at an indoor rink you go ’round and ’round, building speed and when the music stops you crouch down on one leg and hold out your ankle with your hands. This trick should not be completed on a busy street, nor while traveling downhill. My jean shorts were a tad too short to prevent my ass cheeks from scraping on the asphalt when things went awry. My legs slipped out from under me, I left a DNA sample on the street and Jenny was beside herself in hysterics.
As I skated into the driveway shaking from the pain, the blood dripping OUT of my shorts and down my legs, my parents knew my daredevil days had come to an end. I walked in the door and dropped trou as my parents stood in disbelief. My mom ran to the other room and grabbed the bactine. I bent over and pulled my underwear in my ass crack while my mom sprayed that acidic shit on the wounds and my father tried to blow cold air on it to help soothe the pain. Wouldn’t ya know my sister walked in the door and almost pissed herself at the site before her.
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Two months ago for birthday my friends organized the most amazing surprise ever! We ordered pizzas, made cocktails and headed to the local rolller rink. Although it had been years since I made a lap in a set of quads, I could barely contain my excitement! Sandwiched between a store front church (don’t ever trust a ‘church’ in a strip mall) and a fried chicken/chinese food/hot subs takeout place (claaaasssy) stood the D’Light Skate Palace.
This place was a FAR cry from my days of acid washed jeans and side ponytails. The place was PACKED with people of all ages who had the most amazing moves I had ever seen in my life. HOLY.SHIT.PEOPLE! That place was like a rolling, rotating Soul Train expedition! Most were practicing for a competition later that night (with a $25k prize) and I thought … “hmmm, who knew roller rinks were like dance floors?” Here I spent my childhood slow skating to Air Supply and these cats were creating moving pyramids and jumping over each other ON SKATES to ‘Lil Bow Wow.
Damn times have changed but me and the roller rink are still in love. 
