Skating on thin ice
I DON'T know how humans came to be. Whether we were created by a divine spirit or evolved from tiny lizard things - it's a bit much for me to contemplate on a Friday afternoon.
However. I will say this.
There is a reason we don't have wheels.
I rock up to PCYC for a day in the life of a roller derby chick full of myusual mix of ignorance and excitement. Roller skates!
Costumes!
Wacky names!
Hoorah!
It's an enthusiasm that is quickly intimidated by the hordes of sexy women hooning around on skates at alarming speeds.
This is no jazzercise.
This is the punk metal of roller skating.
I'm met by Candy Contusions (and no, for those who are feeling a little behind this morning, that is not her real name) - a long-legged derby goddess who makes skating look like a stroll in the park.
It's immediately clear to me I am not going to share her effortless grace.
For one, I put my knee pads on the wrong knees and it takes me a laughably long time to lace-up my skates.
When I'm ready, the man sitting next to me jokes, "I put my motorbike gear on faster than that".
Well, Judgy McJudgeface.
Let's see you try it.
When up on my (feet? wheels?) I resemble a baby deer learning to walk for the first time.
Although I don't fall over, the process is wobbly and slow. Really slow.
After a couple of laps I'm pooped and I release Candy to join her sexy agile friends.
Motorbike man looks smug and I let him.
His wheels are far, far easier.
