Everyone needs an outlet to blow off steam after work. At work, I'm always focused: except maybe when I go to the bathroom to look in the mirror, watch the security footage with building staff, make coffee then throw it out and get Starbucks... what was I saying? Oh right: I'm always focused. But sometimes I need to just unwind after work, and take my mind off of a rough week. Which is why Mike and I decided to go ice skating this past Friday: we thought it was going to be super romantic...
It was not. But I won't decide that for you: instead, I'll paint you a picture of our date. We made our way to the ice skating rink, and waited on a 20-minute line. I know what you're thinking: 20 minutes to star gaze or stare into each other's eyes - how romantic. First off, it's NYC: there are no stars. And 20 minutes is entirely too long to stare into someone's eyes - or else they start to look like an alien.
After getting inside, we rented our boots and the staff suggested we put our shoes in a locker for an extra $8.00. We're not allowed to hold them while we ice skate (I asked), so we didn't have much of a choice. If you're thinking this is a ripoff, it's not! You can save that money if you simply bring your own lock. To our utter embarrassment, we did not bring our own locks - and I'll never forgive myself for that miss.
One of my ice skates was missing a hook to weave my shoelace around. Worried about my ankle, I look over and see that Mike's ice skate was missing all of the hooks except two. He didn't even need a shoelace. I made a mental note for next time: personal locks and ice skates needed.
We smiled, knowing we were both facing danger together, held hands and wobbled over to the ice. It was in the midst of being cleaned, so we waited another half hour. I used this time to try to jump over the seats with my boots like I saw other people doing: to make sure I would be up to par on the ice. I also used this time to eavesdrop on the pair behind us and try to figure out if they were a couple. Unfortunately, I couldn't crack the case. But if I were to guess, they were on a first date. Aw, they were basking in the same romance as us!
We got onto the ice, and let me just warn you right now: ice skating is NOT like riding a bicycle. Well, maybe it would be, if one of your wheels didn't have shoelaces. Our boots were really loose, and to balance, I held my hands out like I was flying. The ice was packed, so needless to say, I accidentally hit a few people. But, as I've always said, it's every man for himself in the rink.
But it wasn't the people who couldn't skate that got in my way. It was the people who could. You couldn't believe how many people were showing off on that ice. There were people twirling, people zigzagging, people doing flips... And they would just zip by you, like you weren't even there with your hands out, flying. To get a break, Mike and I would stop every so often at the wall, so we could try to recapture the romance of it all. The romance was hard to recapture when you had ice guards yelling at you to keep skating and ice viewers sitting next to the ice, awkwardly staring at you like you were part of a play. Well, I was not playing. This was serious business.
After four times around (I counted), Mike asked if my ankle was hurting and I used that as an excuse to fly out of there. In the end, I had a great time looking inadequate if front of my boyfriend - and he's still with me. I guess it is romantic, after all.
*Blogger's Note: Writing this was truly cathartic, and I'm considering re-naming my blog to, "Because this is cheaper than therapy."
It was not. But I won't decide that for you: instead, I'll paint you a picture of our date. We made our way to the ice skating rink, and waited on a 20-minute line. I know what you're thinking: 20 minutes to star gaze or stare into each other's eyes - how romantic. First off, it's NYC: there are no stars. And 20 minutes is entirely too long to stare into someone's eyes - or else they start to look like an alien.
After getting inside, we rented our boots and the staff suggested we put our shoes in a locker for an extra $8.00. We're not allowed to hold them while we ice skate (I asked), so we didn't have much of a choice. If you're thinking this is a ripoff, it's not! You can save that money if you simply bring your own lock. To our utter embarrassment, we did not bring our own locks - and I'll never forgive myself for that miss.
One of my ice skates was missing a hook to weave my shoelace around. Worried about my ankle, I look over and see that Mike's ice skate was missing all of the hooks except two. He didn't even need a shoelace. I made a mental note for next time: personal locks and ice skates needed.
We smiled, knowing we were both facing danger together, held hands and wobbled over to the ice. It was in the midst of being cleaned, so we waited another half hour. I used this time to try to jump over the seats with my boots like I saw other people doing: to make sure I would be up to par on the ice. I also used this time to eavesdrop on the pair behind us and try to figure out if they were a couple. Unfortunately, I couldn't crack the case. But if I were to guess, they were on a first date. Aw, they were basking in the same romance as us!
We got onto the ice, and let me just warn you right now: ice skating is NOT like riding a bicycle. Well, maybe it would be, if one of your wheels didn't have shoelaces. Our boots were really loose, and to balance, I held my hands out like I was flying. The ice was packed, so needless to say, I accidentally hit a few people. But, as I've always said, it's every man for himself in the rink.
But it wasn't the people who couldn't skate that got in my way. It was the people who could. You couldn't believe how many people were showing off on that ice. There were people twirling, people zigzagging, people doing flips... And they would just zip by you, like you weren't even there with your hands out, flying. To get a break, Mike and I would stop every so often at the wall, so we could try to recapture the romance of it all. The romance was hard to recapture when you had ice guards yelling at you to keep skating and ice viewers sitting next to the ice, awkwardly staring at you like you were part of a play. Well, I was not playing. This was serious business.
After four times around (I counted), Mike asked if my ankle was hurting and I used that as an excuse to fly out of there. In the end, I had a great time looking inadequate if front of my boyfriend - and he's still with me. I guess it is romantic, after all.
*Blogger's Note: Writing this was truly cathartic, and I'm considering re-naming my blog to, "Because this is cheaper than therapy."
Other names I'm considering are:
- Attempting the think before you speak fad
- "They say" is not a credible source, mom
- I may look confident, but I have no idea where I'm going
- Friends tell you the truth. Better friends lie
- My phone auto-corrects "I am" to "BMW," and other reasons I know I'm Persian
- The Hangover, Part 4
I like "Because this is cheaper than therapy."!
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