It's an interesting place, full of birthday parties and children who are either on holiday for Thanksgiving or have very liberal parents. One major advantage is it seems to be the only place in America where chewing gum is banned! There were disco lights. There were party games. Someone fell over and broke their arm.
The whole endeavour involves a little more friction than ice skating, and all my hard-practiced skills at stopping on frozen water proved useless on hardened plastic. In fact, as it rushed towards me the rink seemed a lot harder than its ice equivalent, although that didn't stop children with a less developed sense of self-preservation zipping around like lightning. There were also triangle-shaped wheeled stands for the beginner, which made the whole thing look like a horse jumping course, on which the jumps moved randomly, propelled by live children.
After a while I vaguely got the hang of it, relying on the friction to brake me over a super-tanker-sized stopping distance. I didn't see Charity for much of the time as she twizzled and twirled her way around. Just as I was experiencing a sensation not completely dissimilar to fun, a lady fell over, the rink had to be cleared, and the paramedics arrived (and had to work in front of an audience of morbidly curious under-tens). If God had meant us to have wheels he'd have given us unbreakable wrists.
I would come here just for the name.
Charity models her skates, and the carpet.
Going well...
...and taking the falls.
A natural.
Taking a quick breather.
A fun and healthy family activity, or some fresh vision of hell?
Charity dances through the disco lights.
Having had to clear the plastic for the "medical emergency", we try to keep our spirits up with a game of air hockey.
Just to show you that it's not all fun and games chez Davies. Here, Charity builds her character and learns vital life skills helping her Godmother in the kitchen. I'm about to play some Super Mario Galaxy while she does.
