The last time I went ice skating - it was with my mother when I was eight. I wasn't good then, and you don't have to remind me that A LOT OF TIME has passed since then. I'm looking at the same picture that you're looking at.
But sometimes your spirit just calls you to do something crazy. And my inner spirit said, "Nancy, go ice skating in Pershing Square. You'll have a blast."
Well, my spirit lied. Sort of. Not really. I'll explain.
What actually happened is this - the woman who does PR for Pershing Square contacted me. "Hey, I like your blog. You're funny. You wanna go ice skating?"
"Sure," I said, liking the idea, because it was interesting, eccentric (come on, it's like 80 degrees here), very downtown LA in the winter time, and nuts.
And once I hung up, I said to myself, "I AM NUTS. I'll kill myself. I'm going to fall on my face - need plastic surgery. Get crushed by a skate. Turn into a popsicle. Die."
So I tried to cancel. Have you ever tried to cancel once you've said 'yes' to a PR person? Impossible. They've got every angle covered. "It's a landmark. FUN. It's only over the holidays"...until I finally said, "ALL RIGHT, I'LL GO."
And that's how it happened that I went on a Saturday with my friend Stacy and her two young daughters. Stacy is one of those friends who is up for anything, and since I needed support and I knew her kids would love it - we went.
Once we got there, her kids were on skates in two minutes - whizzing by. Stacy one minute later. And I stood there - on the side of the rink in picturesque downtown - frozen. I couldn't move. I was so scared. "Uh, Stac, I think I'm just going to take pictures."
"What do you mean - you're just going to take pictures?" "I can't move my feet, they are stuck to the ground," as I pointed to the sign that said, "Skate at your own risk."
"Oh, that sign. It's nothing. They have to put signs up like that. Nancy, SKATE. We're here. It's easy."
But I was frozen. Shaking. Until........
...I saw the rink's "Ice Guys." Tall, gorgeous athletic young guys who skated faster than lightning (I know that's a stretch) - they were there to help everyone skate. I figured if the Ice Guys would skate with me, I could skate (or at least, swoon).
So, I laced up, wobbled up to the outdoor ice rink like a 90-year-old, and preceded to hold on to the railing with all my might. How did I know it would take two Ice Guys five minutes to un-stuck my trembling hands?
Once they did - Stacy was busy taking my picture. They were busy holding me up for the picture. And I was busy wondering if I had lost my mind all together.
We skated one foot and I was done. Yet, there is a moral to this tale: it is not how far you skate, it is the fact that you took the risk to skate.
And I, my fellow Americans, am a risk taker! Still standing. With no plastic surgeon in sight. Just another downtown adventure.