Scary Public Sessions

Every skating blog or message board contains lengthy diatribes about public sessions. The reason why this is such a universal bonding experience among figure skaters should be self-evident. Yes, it’s what you always suspected—figure skaters DO look down at you. I don’t mean that we don’t like you as a human being or that we’re a bunch of specially talented prima donnas who can’t stand to sully our skating skirts by hanging out with the riff-raff.  No, the principal reason we can’t stand skating on publics is because you scare the bejeezus out of us. If it’s not children skating like kamikaze pilots, it’s teenagers flopping over the ice like beached walruses; if it’s not some joker showing off for his girlfriend, it’s some no-talent  macho hockey wanna-be slamming into the boards.

If I’m gonna knock out my teeth, I prefer to it to myself and not through a collision with a public session skating zombie.

I gave up most public sessions years ago. Public skating is party time.  I do feel sorry for the poor shmucks who, due to scheduling and finances, have no other choice than to practice on a public session. And, yes, sometimes that shmuck, c’est moi.

Actually, I enjoy publics more as an amateur anthropologist than anything else. The rink provides an amusing mise-en-scene for all kinds of mini-dramas.  Sad to say, sometimes I’m playing a starring role.

For instance, I despise the chairs/cones/walkers that rinks lend to help little kids with balance. Inevitably, these things are appropriated by older children and teenagers, who turn them into weapons and push the things randomly like missiles. One day a kid was launching a chair around like a catapult. He didn’t need it to skate; it was just a fun toy. I skated up to the boy and removed the chair, heaving it over the boards. Suddenly a shrill indignant voice  shouted, “Excuse me??!!! My son was using that!!” I tried to explain that since he was (a) big, and (b) could skate he didn’t need it and that the chair was actually dangerous.  The mother huffed and puffed and informed me that her kid just had to use because he couldn’t skate.

Astonished, I asked if she meant that kid skating over there, and added, “If he can’t skate, why did you come to an ice rink?” (although bitchy, it is a reasonable question).

Well, she went and grabbed the rink manager. I was in the right so I didn’t get in trouble. Still, the question remains: really, people, if you can’t skate, why not take some lessons?  You’re not going to learn through some magical incantation or by just stepping out on the ice in some rental skates.  But if you feel you must skate, please do not make the ice anymore dangerous than it already is.

Incidentally, about a month after this incident the rink put up big signs: “No Chairs on the Ice!”