Disclaimer: This happened. Not in the exact same sequence, or fashion. There have been a few changes to the true story. Consider them whatever you want – embellishments? corrections? addenda? You’ll just have to take it with a pinch of salt.
“WHAT THE F—!”, he yelled as his legs slid out beneath him at a painful, yet comedic, obtuse angle. As his hands go out to grab the handrail that is literally just an inch too far away, he collapses into an ungainly heap of flesh, denim and fleece-lined jacket. This is definitely not the best day of his life. It’s a cold night, and falling just made things a whole lot worse. He gingerly gets to his feet, legs still shaking from the complete lack of preparedness for his fall, and attempts to brush the ice off his clothes. “Why in the world am I here?”, he mutters under his breath.
Flashback 6 hours
Bzzt. His phone vibrates on his table. Turns out it’s a text from his friend Keenan about a bunch of people going ice-skating tonight. Interesting? Check. Something new? Check. Hanging out with Keenan, Delia, David and more people? Check. No urgent work? Check. Seems right – let’s do this.
Back to the ice rink at PPG Place
“Stupid flashbacks”, he mutters. Turns out that sweeping the snow off his clothes is of no use – most of the snow’s seeped through to his skin anyway. He looks up to find Delia and Keenan finding it hard to contain their mirth. Understandable really – he’s pretty sure it looked comic from a third person perspective.
“Are you OK?”, asks Delia, through barely contained giggles.
“Yes, I’ll be fine”, he says. He’s not completely certain though, but better put up a brave front right?
Delia brushes some of the ice off of him that he couldn’t reach. “OK, now the first thing you’ve got to do is learn to walk on ice – the same way you’d walk on the ground”, she says.
“Easier said than done”, he shoots right back at her with his trademark grin. Setting his sights about a foot in front of his extremely unsteady feet, he goes for a second shot.
Transfer weight to left leg. Lift right leg. Move right leg forward. Plant right leg down. Transfer weight to right leg. Lift left leg. Move left leg forward. Plant left leg down. Repeat. Sounds simple enough. If only he could do it right. The handrail is his friend, and for the moment, dearer to him than any form of instruction or advice Delia could give him.
He pauses to look around – the rink is a circular rink with a large christmas tree in the middle. He hasn’t really had much time to admire the holiday decorations on the tree – he’s been too busy trying to stay on his feet. Standing at the outer rim, he sees other people gracefully skating past.
“How do they do that?”, he can’t help but wonder out aloud.
“Oh, you’ll get it eventually”, replies Keenan with a smile.
And with that, Keenan and Delia float away, leaving in their wake nothing but grooves in the ice.
20 minutes later, and…erm…a few falls
Keenan skates up to him. “How’s it going so far?”, she asks?
“I think I’m finally getting the hang of it!”, he responds brightly. He’s been walking for a bit now without having to grab out for the handrail every so often.
“You’ve got to stop pretending that you’re walking on ice”, yells a person standing outside the rink as he passes by.
He looks back to see who it was, which turns out to be a bad idea because before he knows it, his hands are flying out to steady himself on the treacherously slippery surface. Catching his breath, he says, “Nobody saw that happen”.
Delia slides up alongside him and Keenan. “Wow, you’re getting better at this”, she says, “Now try keeping one foot straight and kicking out behind you with the other one.”
5 minutes later
“Sorry!”
“Excuse me!”
“My bad!”
“Yeaaargh!”
“Rookie coming through!”
“Novice on ice – make way!”
And suddenly, the legs are sliding out again. Slip. Slide. Grab at thin air. Find metal handrail. Legs still slipping. Helpless? Almost. With a burst of strength, he manages to pull himself up to the handrail. Panting, he grins at the bystanders who are looking at him with a mixture of pity and amusement on their faces.
And then, he hears a swoosh followed by the sound of metal scraping on ice. He looks in the direction of the noise to see a bunch of skaters showing off some of their moves. Dodging, weaving through the mass of people, coming to screeching stops in a matter of a second or two – they really know their stuff. He looks wistfully in their direction, wondering if he’ll ever be doing that on an ice rink. Oh well, practice makes perfect.
10 minutes later
He’s been skating around the rink for a while now. As of now, his right foot’s doing most of the work. But he hasn’t been holding the handrail much. David floats past. “You can do this, Vivek”, he says, while skating away with a grace that he can only dream of reproducing in the immediate future. Oh well, back to the grind.
But coming up ahead, he sees Keenan, standing with a camera. “I’m going to get a group photo. Stop here, I’m getting the others”, she says.
This is right about when he realises that he hasn’t really gotten the hang of stopping his state of motion. Keenan sees this and sticks out a hand to help. Instead, she just ends up clotheslining him in slow motion and, well, he finds himself landing on the ice once more in extremely comic fashion.
A couple of group photos later, he heads out on his own again. However, this time, he’s willing to concede that he’s been making some progress. From being in a state where he was unable to stand straight, to gingerly gliding over the ice – it’s been a surprisingly short but tiring journey. He’s barely been skating for 40 minutes, but after listening to Delia’s useful advice about keeping his knees slightly bent and keeping the handrail within arm’s reach, he’s finally starting to look somewhat like he’s skating.
He looks up to see a large group of skaters lounging by the rim. Unlike other groups which he could work his way through, this one’s dense. He’s got a decision to make: stop, or leave the safety of the handrail and work around the group. Feeling particularly brave, he decides to go with the latter course of action. Several profuse apologies, half-uttered oaths, flailing limbs later, he’s made it.
Sam, another friend, sees this happen. “You should head out over into the middle of the rink now”, she suggests.
“Not on your life!”, he responds. He feels nowhere near confident enough to do that sort of thing. For now, the handrail is still very much a necessity. Ice is not his element.
10 minutes later
The rink is slowly emptying. He’s been on it for almost an hour now. But he hasn’t caught hold of the handrail in a while. He’s not a 100% steady, but he’s not falling either. He’s moving into the middle of the rink too. Picking up some speed. Delia and Keenan skate past. He can see the pride in their eyes. For his first time on skates – ice or otherwise – this has been a good expedition. He looks at his phone – it’s almost 10 PM. The rink’s about to close. But he feels accomplished. And he’s definitely not had enough…