No more roller derby
So far, in my roller-skating career, I have:
- Skated around a falling buddy, laughing at him, then when I looked up, saw I was going out the back door. I flew across the alley behind the rink, unmoving, scaring the devil out of a driver in the alley, and myself
- Hit the rails at the edge of the surface in an attempt to stop, at which point I flipped upside down and over, to land in an elderly lady's lap
- After those two occurrences, I thought learning to stop would be wise. Told the toe stops on my skates were actually brakes, I put them _both_ down at speed and suffered the consequences
- At a rink in Long Beach, I was hit from behind by a shipmate in the Navy who was doing a crack the whip in a low crouch. He knocked my feet out from under me, I landed on my derriere. I made it back to the base all right, but could barely get out of my bunk in the morning. After walking to the hospital ship and climbing the long gangway, I ended up in traction for a week
- A few weeks later at the same rink, gliding regally along, I saw a skate wheel sail across the floor in front of me, and wondered what poor soul had lost it. A split second later, my front-wheel-deprived skate hit the floor and I realized who the afflicted party was. Between insight and impact, I got my arm up to protect my face. Next morning saw another struggle out of my lower bunk. Cupping my right arm in my left hand to protect it, I traveled to the hospital ship docked three piers away. Two bones in my elbow had broken, so the doctor gave me a sling, and told me to exercise it for 30 minutes every day "so the joint doesn't calcify". For two months while it healed, I was the designated compartment cleaner.
So, when you pencil in names for your roller derby team, I beg you: LEAVE ME OUT!