 Free Country Feet |
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Ice skating was one of the more amusing things I've done in my lifetime. I'd been ice skating twice before: once in Washington, D.C. in tenth grade and once at Rockefeller Center in eleventh grade, both on school trips. I remember both times as very fun, especially Rockefeller Center, because it was cold outside and Christmassy and lovely and I was sixteen and it was my first time in New York City and I thought it was all the bees knees. This time Jeannie and I took a nine-year-old girl and her seven-year-old brother whom she used to babysit. I remembered them both well from Jeannie's wedding, where I was a bridesmaid and the girl, Kate, was the flower girl. She took to the ice like a pro even though it was only her second time, while Jeannie, Matt, and I approached it all a little more cautiously, staying close to the wall at first and making our way slowly around the rink. Jeannie and I took to it rather quickly, because let's face it, we grew up in the eighties when trips to the roller rink (where we would rock out to Toni Basil's "Mickey" like there was no tomorrow) were regular occurrences, and ice skating really isn't all that different. Matt decided the best way to face this new activity was to run along the ice. He could not grasp the concept of gliding and would charge forth with pigeon-toed skates and careen ahead until losing control and smashing into the wall, but always managing to catch himself. The first time he fell, I think he was more embarrassed than hurt, and I tried to fake fall a few times but he totally saw right through me. Kids are smart that way. At one point, we were skating holding hands, and somehow we tripped each other and ended up in a pile, much to Jeannie and Kate's delight. I swear I could hear them guffawing from across the rink. Some teenagers came to rescue us as we sat there laughing and completely unable to get up on our own. We decided it was time for hot chocolate. No one SAVE ME was smart enough to bring gloves, so I passed them around ever so graciously since everyone's fingers were slowly turning purple. I am proud and not even slightly mortified that I was the only one who dared to participate in the hokie pokey. Later Jeannie told me that Matt turned to her as they laughed at me trying to go backwards during "You put your whole self out" and said sternly, "You cannot tell Eliza we are laughing at her because she told us not to!" I wish I had brought a notebook with me to write down some of the things these kids would say. I laughed so hard at them that I could hardly breathe by the time the night was over. When Matt and I went to take off our skates, he stretched out his feet and rubbed them in relief and sighed happily, "My feet feel like a free country." When drinking his hot chocolate, he remarked, "Drinking coke makes my brain feel like a deflated whoopie cushion." For some reason, I would just look at him and cross my eyes and we would laugh and laugh. He says, "Oh, Tartar Sauce!" when he gets faux upset about something (Kate rolled her eyes and said this was a Sponge Bob thing), so we all started making up new curse words for when we would almost fall. Kate's was "Oh, Black Eyed Peas!" because of how much she loathes them. That one was a big hit. We brought them home, and their parents invited us into their gorgeous house for a glass of wine, which we drank while Kate danced for us like some kind of rock star to whatever group sings "Who Let the Dogs Out?" It was bizarre and somewhat hysterical to behold. I mean, she was a very good dancer, but I couldn't help but laugh in shock. She seemed so shy and demure all night and suddenly she was writhing on the floor and her dad said drolly, "Clearly she's hoping for a pole for Christmas." I could not help but be completely jealous of these people and their life even though I was disgusted with myself for feeling that way. I said, "This wine is so good!" and the mom said, "That's why you need to get married, Eliza. Marry a man who makes money and you can drink good wine every night!" And I really do like this woman and totally knew she didn't mean it in a bad way, but hello. And there I was, sitting there wistfully drinking my three huge classes of expensive wine in this amazing house and cuddling with these hilarious, precocious kids. I woke up slightly hungover and comforted myself by thinking that surely their life isn't all wine and dancing around a lovely lit Christmas tree with surround sound digital music from the giant HDTV. Hopefully the kids vomit a lot and the parents never have any energy anymore to have sex. Evil, but consoling. About this time in ...
© Copyright 2003 elb |
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