This week I had the displeasure of encountering one of the most hateful forms of recreation known to man: roller skating. Oh, sure, it seems like it’ll be good fun with its connotations of carhops and the part of the 1950s that wasn’t full of rampant racism and sexism, but that’s just to lure you in so that it can snap your suddenly fragile anklebones in half.
First off, roller skates have their big dumb stop thingie in the front of the skates, meaning that you lose out on at least 2” of support for your foot. It also means that as you’re cruising along at a respectable 15 mph, you can only stop by balancing on your tippy toes. Apparently, the creators of roller skates weren’t aware that momentum was a thing. Evidently, they just thought that when you wanted to stop blasting down a steep hill, you could just will it to happen and it would.
What conniving bastards.
To make it all worse, they made sure that the skates isolate your ankle. Oh, you want to turn your ankle? Nope, sorry, buddy, the only way that’s going to happen is if you somehow lose control and your entire body weight comes crashing down on your ankle – perhaps because you decided to use those worthless stoppers.
I’m sure you know where this is going. There I was, having a lovely evening pal-ing around with my gal pals, feeling confident that I had finally relearned how to skate at a respectable rate. My gal pals, being lovely gal pals, even clapped and cheered as I whizzed along, elevating my sense of euphoria. Then – disaster struck.
I don’t know how I lost control. Perhaps I put my weight forward. Perhaps one of the wheels stuttered. Perhaps there was a weird patch on the rink. But the next thing I know I’m going down – and hard. My knee slams into the ground, and my ankle rolls under me, eliciting a sharp snap that immediately scares the shit out of me. And now I’m on the ground, knees and ankles at weird angles, joints in pain. Because roller skating is the worst.
(Btw, I didn’t actually snap my ankle. Fortunately, my ankles just crack a lot and that’s all it was. But it does look like I switched out my ankle bone for a baseball, and it’s painful to walk, go up or down stairs, jump, jog, or do any of the physical therapy I’m already supposed to be doing. Oh, and I have to dance in a parade for an hour on Sunday.)
So beware, my readers, of the rectangular configuration of wheels with the highly illogical rubber stopper. Turn your thoughts to happier, less perfidious forms of transportation like rollerblades, skateboards, or bikes. Because roller skates are not your friends, and they do not want you to have a good time. They only want your pain.