Wrap around world of roller skating

Press, 23 April 1984, Page 12

Wrap around world of roller skating

Helen Brown

The sky was streaked with sunset pink outside the roller skating rink. “Is it open?” A row of beat-up cars and trucks huddled near the entrance. Either they belonged to skaters or someone was running a smash-up derby. “It must be.”

I parked the car and we walked toward the building. It throbbed with the sort of music that gives anyone over 30 a yelling reflex — “turn that thing off!” We bought tickets and hired skates from a shadowy figure behind tinted glass. Two adults, two children. Drum-beats trampolined against our ears as we went into the hall. ‘“lsn’t it expensive?” I said to my friend Mary. “What?” The kids had already decided they’d rather play Space Invaders. The Mint Factory must be churning out tons more 20 cent coins these days. Although Mary had skated on ice, she was diffident about concrete. “It’s easy,” I shouted, nearly falling backwards as I inspected her laces. She started talking animatedly, but I couldn’t hear a word. I tried lip-reading. It didn’t work. Humans are more graceful on wheels. They’re taller, for a start. It’s the nearest most of them get to birds, swooping in endless circles on a large square of concrete.

A group of young men flitted past like swift birds of prey. Mary and I, clumsy fledglings, teetered on to the rink.

A small man with a face lit up like a beaming sun sailed past, he turned to expose a vast array of teeth at us, then crashed into a wall.

I had hoped we could express individuality by going in straight lines or zig

zags. But there was no choice. On skating rinks, you go with everyone else. Around and around.

The effect was hypnotic. I began to feel part of something bigger — a tiny particle in the whirling food processor of life. “I wish I’d brought ear plugs,” I shouted to Mary. She smiled blankly.

The sun-faced man appeared from nowhere and returned her smile ten-fold.

After a while, it was easier to pick out other individuals: a girl wearing glittering ear studs and blinding sweet perfume; a man in a midnight blue teeshirt, his lips curled in a small, mysterious smile as he circled the rink sedately. Mary cupped her hands around my ears and shouted, “I wouldn’t mind colliding with that one!” She pointed out an athletic young man in red track suit pants. As he bopped and spun to the music, his body flexed and folded like a bendy bunny’s. He artfull/ avoided the young women who were doing their best to trip over him. A heartfelt apology from him would have been worth ... almost anything. “Everyone off the rink for the women’s speed skate!” a voice boomed over the loudspeaker.

Mary and I scuttled off to' stand by a show case that had “artistic” boots on sale, along with key rings featuring miniature skates. The women’s speed skate consisted of a 10-year-old girl toiling unadventurously away to “Hooked on Classics.”

Young men watched with a mixture of indulgence and disdain. They hooted with disgust when a boy of about 11 joined her. “On the turn, are ya?” they bellowed over the music.

The boy was too brave, or too deaf, to give up. Men’s speed skating was, unfortunately, compelling. They roared past in packs, their hair streaming behind. There was a steely, competitive gleam in their eyes as they gazed mid-distance, never at each other. It was, I decided, a look that wins wars.

Occasionally, though not too often, their eyes slid sideways to collect admiration from female onlookers.

The good thing about speed skating is no-one seems to know who has won. The voice said everyone could go back on the rink.

Mary bought red ice cream in a cup with a straw, the deep end of which was shaped like a spoon. I settled for coffee.

We sat on a bench and watched the world in a whirling spectacle that seemed to have no beginning and no end — except for the sun-faced man, who was forever gliding past. Back on the rink, Mary fell over and hurt part of her anatomy she’d forgotten she had. Soon after, I twisted my foot when I came in for a landing. Without a word, we agreed it was time to drag the kids away from the Space Invaders and return all our skates.

They looked as if they’d had enough exercise for one day.