You Did WHAT?
When I casually mention that I seek out skating rinks on my travels, I notice a micro-expression of incredulity followed by a quip like, “Oh, I haven’t skated since junior high.”
I get it. Skating reminds some of us of the anxiety of staying upright in the most herky-jerky situation, fearing sudden knee pain, and feverishly trying to avoid embarrassment.1
But for me, skating is a way to enjoy well-amped music and lights with fun-loving people. I have a history with the sport and am as just as comfortable backwards as I am forwards on the quads.
So, on my Row House Road Show, I had a little fun scoping out some rinks. 🎢⛸2
Vindicated By A Master
We all have our hobbies, some less trendy than others.
Sometimes we find our tribe, and we say The Heck to what anyone else thinks.
Sometimes a cool person puts our avocation on the map, and we feel vindicated.
Imagine my swagger when I thumbed through a Red Bulletin Magazine recently and saw an article on a world-renowned, well-sponsored, professional roller skater called T-Stacks Frank.
A month earlier, I witnessed him in action in Nashville and had no idea he was a big deal.
There were loads of skilled and silky smooth skate dancers at Rivergate rink, but T-Stacks stood out.
His full-body engagement, rhythmic acumen, and effortless spins, all while navigating scads of other bodies: Nothing short of mesmerizing.
T-Stacks has since taken his skills to the outdoors, thanks to COVID. His Instagram feed shows him ripping around skate parks and concrete bowls with abandon.
Now I have a right to feel slightly more proud of my “juvenile activity,” wouldn’t you say?
Welcome to Church
The first rink I visited in Nashville is in a suburb called Smyrna. I drove over alone, laced up, and hit the floor.
I noticed a diversity of ages and social-economic strata at Skate Center Smyrna, but it was a predominantly white crowd, working class.
Rinks are happy places, but regulars tend to keep to themselves. I was content with that, knowing I could talk to anyone if I pleased.
Suddenly a middle-aged lady rolled up beside me, caught my eye, and made sure to get my name.
She called herself “Mama Mary.” She’s the de-facto mom and cheerleader to the locals, and you could tell it in her eyes.
I told her she reminded me of my friend Leslie who occupies a similar post as chief Welcomer in my church.
Mary was the one who told me about Nate, the most proficient skater at Smyrna.
I had seen him push his new baby around in a stroller before the crowds took to the floor. His wife took video of his moves, at his direction. 🎬
I tapped a guy named Eric who was making me envious with a smooth, rolling spin move. I asked him for some tips, and he was glad to oblige.
Eric’s the one who encouraged me to check out Rivergate in the north part of Nashville.
The Soul Train Has 8 Wheels
Ten days later, I drove 45 minutes north to Rivergate, feeling a bit sheepish about the distance and time commitment for just a little-old hobby of mine.
The rink is in Madison, and I could tell walking in from the parking lot that this was place was going to have a much more soulful ethos.
The proportion of experienced skaters far outweighed the casual drop-ins and birthday celebrants.
Still, all skill levels were welcomed. I also realized I was way below most of the skaters’ pay grade.
In situations like that, I feel like a kindergartner, but I’m also inspired to grow my moves or at least enjoy spectating.
Plus, in a weolcome turn of events, I was one of the few white people in the room.
All around me, individual dancers melded into groups of 3, 4, or 5, shuffling in unison. The center of the rink teemed with skaters rehearsing dance steps, a pulsating congregation of soulful friendship.
Rising above them all like an NBA player on a high school court was T-Stacks Frank.
He wore a baseball cap with tiny devil horns on it, pulled down low over his eyes, two chrome lip rings catching the colored chaser lights.
Why Skate?
I say, why not?
You’re weaving, you’re navigating bodies, you’re going nowhere fast.
You’re in a zone, but you’re on high alert. Good for the brain.
You’re at a dance party where it’s OK to simply coast or go solo.
You’re not required to face anyone or stay in one spot.
You can leave anytime, stand at the carpeted walls, and watch.
You pull up to a booth at the concession stand and chill with a Slushy, some nachos, or a slice of pepperoni.3
You enjoy an all-weather cardio opportunity to the tune of quality dance music and stimulating lights.
You get all of this without the booze and debauchery that often attends dance clubs.4
An Unintended Discovery
I didn’t expect my “research” into various rinks on this Roadshow to be much more than a fun way to meet like-minded folk and get some exercise.
I thought that maybe there would be some kind of clever social analysis I could manufacture about “embodiment in an age of mediated reality.”
Instead, I discovered something profound: Skating is a vital community for many people, even today.
On my recent trip to Raleigh, I headed north once again to experience United Skates of America. That name!
This rink, featured in a 2019 documentary produced by John Legend, is an example of the community that skating builds within the African-American community.
It’s more than just fun; It’s a vital social connection that I now feel utterly humbled to be welcomed into wherever I travel.
Skating Outside? Yes, Please!
There was one rink in particular that I specifically set out to witness.
I caught wind of the Dellwood Recreation Center skating rink in St. Louis, MO through a St. Louis Dispatch article.
On a sunny September afternoon, I made my way over to the Ferguson area with my outdoor skates in tow. When I arrived, I found a glassy smooth, concrete floor, in the open air with two retirement-age guys circling around on it.
Most impressive is the terraced spectating area and DJ table. I can imagine the nighttime sessions are marvelous events under the stars.
The expectation in the daytime is to pop your earbuds in and get your vibe on, in my case to Leon Bridge’s latest album. Later, a younger fellow came by to get his skate on.
When the two gentlemen were leaving, I engaged them and learned they were lifelong residents of that in-the-news municipality.
They love the rink as a place for people to come together in their community.
And there’s also the trauma I experienced as a junior high lad when a girl, much taller and new to our school, invited me to a skating party, and her parents picked me up in a green station wagon in which our thighs kept touching on the vinyl seat, and I didn’t know what to talk about, staring at the back of her parents’ mid-century heads, and I had to endure two hours of anonymity and her adoring stares before the trip home could commence and I could return to my happy spot on the shag carpeting in front of the TV munching Oreos with milk while watching roller derby on Channel 9. Back then, we didn’t use the word “awkward,” but that term would’ve come in handy.
Tragically, my keyboard doesn’t offer a roller skating emoji.
If I could start a business ($), I would integrate roller skating with GOOD food!
At Rollerway in York, PA, I had inquired about their Sunday hip-hop night. Without looking up, the owner shook his head and said, “You don’t want to come to that.” I played dumb. “Whadya mean?” He said flatly, “That’s the only night I hire security.” I suppose I didn’t look too street smart to him. Maybe he was right. It reminded me that with crowds can come rowdiness. You can’t avoid outside influences such as alcohol, rivalries, and rage. At the Raleigh rink, I observed three security officers, a comfort. But I split the scene before it got too crowded and late. I got out without causing any trouble (!). 😜