August 24 - The Rink

All I remember is one minute everybody was skating laps to Jack and Diane, and the next most of the kids were dutifully skating over to the exits and getting off the rink.
I saw my older sister off to the side waving me over to come in too, and I looked back at her like What?, and she yelled something about speed something, but I couldn't hear her over the noise of the rink.
By then there were about seven or eight guys lining up at the end of the rink and a couple more on their way. Older kids. High schoolers. A couple of them were wearing Black Sabbath concert t-shirts, the kind with the black sleeves. Most of them had longer, feathered hair. One guy was putting on a helmet.
I looked back again at my sister. She was now waving emphatically for me to come in, looking more pissed off than concerned. Her friends were laughing, and I could see my friends standing near them looking out at me. The guy on the PA said something about a speed skate. By now, just about everyone else was off the rink, but for reasons that are not clear to me I turned around and joined the guys on the line.
Looking back on it now, I can't believe they would just let anyone join Skatepocalpyse Now or whatever it was called. There were no qualifying heats or anything. Just, Hey, did you hear our announcement about the next song being for future Jackass cast members only? No? Well, screw it! Join us out here anyway. All you have to do is SKATE FAST. And for God's sake, don't fall.
The announcer got on the PA.
SKATERS, GET READY.
This was a bad idea, but I had to go through with it. The other guys on the line settled into their places while tried to keep my balance and imagine that my sister's friends were watching me.
GET SET.
The other guys got into these weird crouches like sprinters from the 1920s Olympics. I put my hands on my knees and concentrated. On what I don't know.
GO!
And just like that the other guys were gone. Homicidal demon dogs chasing down a bunny made of crystal meth.
And me? Well, I didn't fall, but that's the best thing you could say about me. I probably looked like a cross between a zombie with a stutter and late era Mohammad Ali on roller skates. Lurching, choppy, graceless, like I was driving a stick shift for the first time.
By the time I got to the first turn I'd been lapped by every mustachioed dude out there and I wanted off. I'd made a big mistake, but I was stuck. I had to go around the back end of the rink and finish my lap. There was no other way. Turning around and making a beeline for the exit would be like missing your off ramp on the freeway, stopping your car right there, and backing up in your lane so you can go back and get off. No. I had to go all the way around before I could get off.
I was like Bambi on the ice at an NHL game. The other guys flew by me. I should have just gone to the middle, sat down, and sucked my thumb until it was all over, but I went for it. I got a jerky rhythm going, like a middle school band playing ska for the first time, and winced as I rounded the final corner and made my move to the exit, cutting off at least three dudes in the process.
I made it, and my friends were laughing, and my sister was pissed off, and her friends couldn't have cared less and I tried to look nonchalant, but at the same time all I could think about was how relieved I was to have made it off in one piece.
I wish I could say I'd done it to impress my sister's friends or to show off to my friends or to prove something to myself or to face down my fears or whatever but the truth was that I froze and stayed out there mostly by accident, and then managed, somewhat gracelessly, to get through it. More or less.
Anyway, ever since then, that's been the running theme in my life: Be it through incompetence, luck, or a lack of vigilance, always stumbling into situations where I'm in over my head.
See also:
Being plucked from a screaming crowd to play acoustic guitar onstage with Bruce Springsteen at Giant Stadium despite never having played before.
Helping to embalm a deceased Catholic priest while working a summer job at a funeral home during high school.
Captaining my college's JV fencing team despite never having fenced before.
Being in the room for the latest round of Middle East peace talks.
Somehow I always find myself back at the starting line of the speed skating contest again and again and again. And part of me feels like I should figure out how to get off the rink when I'm supposed to. But the rest of me feels like it usually ends up making for a good story.