Factory Defect

In talking with some skater friends after last Monday night’s skate I was informed that I too am factory defective, else why would I choose to skate otherwise. While at first mention it seemed ludicrous, to be told that I’m defective and that the fact that I skate makes me so, it made some sense after someone explained it. He asked a series of questions, that although have coherent answers in my opinion still proved his point further. Apparently, if you choose to skate in the dark, in the city’s busiest streets, some with non-functioning lights and regularly disobey traffic laws in order to avoid speeding buses and careless drivers then you must be some kinda crazy thus defective from the factory. I skate ‘cause it makes me strangely happy, between scaring the shit out me at times and actually providing a physical outlet and workout, it actually frees me in some strange way, however briefly. Sometimes while barreling down a street that may or may not have a deadly pothole at the bottom, I realize that whatever was weighing heavy or whatever I was obsessing about is suddenly gone. And it’s free, well except for having to buy skates, and the helmet, and the wrist guards, and the blinking lights and the skate socks and the random workout clothes. Yes, my high school Economics teacher was indeed right- there ain’t no free lunch. Ever.

There are several people in the skating group we were discussing, using phrases such as “acquired taste,” or “not all there,” or “just not right.” Yes, all lame euphemisms for “I don’t like them.” But since I rarely hang out with these guys I figure it best to not freely share my overflowing number of opinions about every single person I come in contact with during any given night skate I attend.

There’s the raging vegetarian, always trying to push his tofu this, tofutti instead of turkey for Thanksgiving, his Tai-Chi for your inner this, his Kung-Foci for outer that and the incessant talk about skating or biking to work to save the environment. Then there’s the girl who, now older, is still mentally trapped in her younger probably attractive years and insists on saying the dumbest things to once again try to be the center of attention. She’ll stand on her head and do pirouettes, simulate ballet while skating and just talk about herself the whole time. Oh wait, that’s what I’m doing here. Well, I’m not making you read it though. Anyway, even though I don’t really like her, she actually gained much respect from me Monday; she was telling the story of her last skating accident. While skating thru the Ansley Park loop, she came up on a particularly nasty turn/stop-sign/drop on the street at which point her face hit the ground first and one tooth leaped out of her mouth from the impact. That sounds absolutely painful and fucked up, still she got her tooth put back in, which didn’t break by the way ‘cause it was so strong she said, and recuperated and back on skates she is. That’s admirable.

I’ve had my share of impromptu meetings with the pavement myself but nothing that tragic. I’m covered with several reminders, but I think it gives skin character to have “battle” scars. The cool character that is, not the kind of “character” you develop from over tanning in a shitty tanning bed, least that’s what I tell myself every time I see all these marks on moi. I think the worst was a downhill turn with zero visibility with sudden traffic influx and speed beyond the help of a 2x2 rubber cube attached to the back of my right skate. I fell on my ass, but going at that speed your ass scraping rough asphalt isn’t much of a braking system either. The asphalt and my ass exchanged an extended period of brutal caressing and it left its imprint on my ass and my ass on it. I couldn’t sit for two weeks. I had just gotten an office job, so for two weeks I knelt in front of my computer while at work. Oh the joy and the jokes that brought about.

Then there’s the psycho Echo- she says that’s her name. She’s supposed to be in school to become a biophysicist or something. So she says. She orders pizza without the dough ‘cause she’s allergic to wheat and asks people for a free place to stay ‘cause she’s in school and can’t afford rent and she only needs a place for a couple of months before she goes back home.

There’s also the control-freak girl who likes to lead skates but won’t tell you where she plans to go because you are supposed to follow her and wait ‘till you get there. The problem with that though is that she likes to stop at every single stoplight to “regroup” thus rendering the purpose of being out there for exercise useless. She gets pissed when people pass her and screams out stuff like “who’s the leader here?” Kenman, one of the cool people there once told me that she’s a VP of something at her job and that she’s used to being in control. It must be a bank, which makes it a joke -we have a VP for everything at banks, a VP for the VP of office supplies inspections included.

The saving grace is the act of skating though, and that there are cool people in the group as well. We have our own little microcosm right there, a representation of the world at large, only a little more factory defective at times. And that gives me a better perspective- sometimes. Vas was just saying that everyone falls short of great at one point or another; I guess he’s right. Looks like I’ve been expecting too much from people over all. But isn’t accepting that like “settling?” Why should anybody settle? Ever? ‘Cause if the don’t they’ll never be completely satisfied you say? Well, there’s still a part of me that can’t quite accept that theory even if I am factory defective myself.