I took a sweet trip down memory lane yesterday. My children went to a roller disco party and I was instantly transported back to the certain roller rink in Lakewood, Colorado on Alameda.
From the age of 14, my posse of girlfriends and I would spend an entire afternoon doing our hair and getting dressed for the big night that was Saturday night at the roller rink. All week we whispered our plans, passed notes and agonised over what we would wear, who would be there and whose parents had drawn the short straw for transportation arrangements. If we were lucky someone's older sibling had gotten permission to use the car but that rarely happened. Clearly, we needed supervision.
We would be dropped off after feathering our hair (which could take hours) and spraying it down (a tornado couldn't move that hair). Usually our makeup had to go on after we left home so it was straight into the ladies' room or I would try to plan on getting ready at someone else's house so my mom couldn't see how much makeup I put on. Or how tight my trousers were.
I had saved every penny from babysitting and working at Wendy's Hamburgers to buy myself a pair of roller skates. They were white with hot pink wheels and hot pink laces. I loved those skates. Every Sunday morning I inspected them for scuff and promptly applied white polish if there were any scuffs.
I was a pretty good skater but never brilliant. I could skate backwards and go in circles but speed scared the living daylights out of me. Still does! I was always very impressed with those boys who could skate really well but they always ended up with the girls who could skate very well too. That wasn't me.
It was a good night if the boy you fancied from the side asked you to skate with him during one of the night's 4 couple skates. I didn't get asked very often. One of the 4 skates was always ladies' choice where the girls could ask the boys. Usually I fancied the best looking boy and by the time I worked up the courage to approach him, the boy I wanted to skate with had been swept away by someone else. I usually asked someone else when there was less than a minute left to skate. What a loser!
By 10:30 the evening was over and we were headed home. No doubt one of us would be in tears, usually about a guy. One of us was over the moon, usually also about a guy. One of us was planning our strategy for next week. That one was usually me.
Through the magic of Facebook I've actually found a couple of the girls that were in the skating posse. Leisa and Robin will recognise the routine and anguish we went through but hopefully the giggles and fun we used to have.
Today's lights and music made me feel like it was all just yesterday as I watched my son and daughter take their first tentative steps on to a roller rink.
Le Freak, C'est Shiek! YMCA! Oh what a night, late December back in 63, what a very special time to me, what a lady, what a night!