Kat's Rambling Mind

Back in the mid-1990s, there was a time when inline skates (rollerblades) were the latest craze. All the kids were ditching their regular quad skates with two wheels in front and two in back for inline skates, which have four wheels positioned along the center of the boot in a straight line.

Since I was already thirty in 1995, I assumed my skating days were behind me. Sure, I was a kid in the 70s and 80s, and could skate on quads pretty handily. I could even skate backwards, although I never mastered the limbo. But something would happen in 1995 that made me strap on a pair of skates again. What would that be, you ask?

What else? I met a guy.

Yep, my sister and I went down to Atlanta one summer Saturday night to a club, and we had rented a hotel room and spent the night in midtown Atlanta. Sunday afternoon we went out to sit on a patio and have lunch, and perhaps a summery drink. There was music and a small dance floor, and I met a guy named James that afternoon.

James was handsome, with blonde hair and blue eyes. He had a lanky, athletic build and stood about 6’2″ tall. He also wore glasses, so he looked like a combination of a jock and a librarian. I was instantly attracted to him. We talked and danced a little, but all too soon it was time for Sis and me to head back to the northeast Georgia mountains. James grabbed a dollar bill from his pocket, wrote his number on it, and asked me to call him.

After talking on the phone every weeknight, we started meeting up on weekends to date. After all, he lived in the city and I lived about an hour away, so there was a distance factor. However, we enjoyed each other’s company and shared interests in music, movies, and books. James was funny, sensitive, and quirky with an offbeat sense of humor. I was smitten.

One Saturday when I was visiting him in the city, he suggested something new. He thought we should go to nearby Piedmont Park and hang out there. We went and played some frisbee, sat on the grass and talked, and had a small picnic. It was a relaxing afternoon, and we were getting ready to go when he asked, “Hey, do you have any skates?”. Remember I mentioned that he was athletic? Well, yeah. That.

I told him I used to have some as a kid but that I hadn’t skated in at least ten years. I thought maybe he was talking about going to a rink, which didn’t really worry me. I was sure I could still skate well enough not to embarrass myself.

“No, I mean inline skates. Y’know, rollerblades.” Oh, dear.

I replied that I didn’t and he looked disappointed. “I thought maybe we could come back to the park tomorrow and go skating”, he said.

Yikes, I thought to myself. While I wasn’t really opposed to the idea, I pointed out that I didn’t have any rollerblades of my own. Oh, darn the luck…oh well! He promptly suggested we go the nearby sporting goods store and he would buy me a pair.

Damn. I was out of excuses, so off we went. I tried on a few pair and picked out an inexpensive pair of beginner’s rollerblades. I insisted on paying for them myself.

Now, I mentioned earlier that I wasn’t really opposed to the idea of the skates; however, I did have some nagging practical concerns. Mainly, what if I fell and broke a wrist, or worse? I owned a hair salon in the nineties, and if I broke something I would have been out of work for a while. My girls that worked with me and my clients depended on me. I managed to brush those thoughts aside and tried to quell my anxiety.

That Sunday morning, we went out to the parking lot of his apartment complex and he gave me a brief lesson in rollerblading. It was nice, flat asphalt, so I thought, “Hey, this might be a breeze”.

Well, I felt a breeze, alright. From the minute I stood up on those things, I was somehow going 90 miles per hour. I had years of dance training and four years of cheerleading under my belt, but the Death Blades, which I called them in my mind, seemed especially difficult to master.

As I rolled headlong towards a big green dumpster, I yelled over my shoulder, “HOW DO I STOP?!”. I felt like George Jetson calling out to Jane, asking her to “stop this crazy thing!”.

“The brakes are on the back! Flex your foot upwards!”, James yelled. The dumpster was getting bigger and closer, so I did as I was told. That was the moment I realized my foot wouldn’t really flex in that tall boot. I was used to having a toe stop on the front of the skate. I instinctively dragged one foot behind me, just like I would with quad skates, and managed to stop before I flipped into the dumpster. James warned against me dragging my foot to stop, though; I’d ruin the wheels, he said.

After a little more instruction, I seemed to get the hang of rollerblading a little better. I felt like I was ready for the park.

Friends….I was not ready for the park.

Piedmont Park in midtown Atlanta is a beautiful spot, with a lake, a gorgeous skyline view, and paths and trails that wind around the park. It is also incredibly crowded on Sunday.

Undaunted (okay, I was a little daunted), I strapped on my Death Blades and decided it was now or never. James looked so happy that I was willing to try skating with him, and I was happy that he seemed happy.

“Okay, here we go!”, he said, and took off down a hill.

No one mentioned that there would be inclines and declines. I was prepared for flat ground, not hilly areas. Still, I was determined, so I steeled myself and pushed off after him.

Well, once again I was instantly going really fast, and this time I swear I would have clocked in at around 12o MPH going down that hill. Gravity kicked in really hard and I was off. And of course, there were people on the path. People walking, people on bikes, people with dogs…people everywhere.

With my heart pounding and my hair blowing in the wind, I flew down the hill like a bat out of hell, yelling apologies to people I was trying not to plow over.

“SORRY! FIRST TIME ON BLADES!”, I hollered at one poor man as I whizzed around him, all the while flailing my arms in an effort to get balanced on the skates.

“COMING THROUGH, SORRY!”, I called out as a warning to a couple holding hands. They let go of each other, and I sped between them and started to sweat a little. Their laughter followed me down the hill, when suddenly, there they were.

A woman with a small dog on a leash, standing dead ahead of me.

I was immediately alarmed because of my increasing speed, and the fact that I had no leeway to the right nor the left of them. I started trying to stop. It didn’t work. They were getting closer.

All I could picture was crashing into them, and the three of us would wind up entangled in that leash; me, the woman, and a Yorkshire terrier, all in a pile.

What happened next was nothing short of a miracle.

I jumped the dog.

How I managed to jump that dog is still a mystery to me, but as I got closer, I squatted down a little, my years of ballet took over, and I basically did a grand leap over that Yorkie like a prima ballerina. As I landed, I somehow got turned around backwards. Then I started to panic a little. The ground was leveling out and I was slowing down, but I had no idea what was behind me, and I was still flustered from jumping the dog.

About that time I felt someone grab me from behind, and I gratefully came to a stop. I turned, and it was James, who was red-faced from laughing. He proceeded to tell me how ridiculous I looked, but praised the fact that I jumped the dog. I pictured the scene as he must have, and I started laughing too.

The little love affair between me and James started to cool a little after a few months. He planned to move to Savannah, and I didn’t want to move with him, after only having known him for a short while. But the time we had together was fun, and it’s a good memory of mine. We parted, and went our separate ways in life.

Isn’t it funny how sometimes people drift into and then out of your life? It might seem there wasn’t a purpose, but I think there’s always a reason. Maybe that reason is hard to see at times, but it’s all in how you choose to frame things, I guess.

Me? I choose to look at my short relationship with James as a little piece of what makes me who I am. After all, I was terrified of the Death Blades, but James gently prodded me to step outside my comfort zone a little. Granted, the results weren’t fantastic, but I did it anyway. I learned that sometimes you have to try new things in order to grow.

And sometimes, if you’re lucky, you come away with a story about that time you were rollerblading in Piedmont Park and jumped a dog!