Southern Christmas

I'm back in Louisiana celebrating Christmas with my family. My brother mentioned that the next town over recently opened up an ice skating rink, so we made plans to go the next day. I don't know about everyone else, but I was pretty excited. When I was a college student, I took an ice skating class, so I was eager to brush up on my skills. But, as usual, getting my family all ready to go is a bit like herding cats. It didn't help when my husband passed out from an overdose of Benadryl. Finally, we headed out the door.

I have to admit that I had some high expectations for this skating rink. When my mom discovered that they charged five bucks for thirty minutes of skating, I should have known something was up. The place itself didn't have a phone and the directions to get there were something like "Head west on Industry Drive and after you pass McDonald's, start looking for it on your right." My mom asked if it said anything on the outside, and they told her, "Oh, you'll just know it when you see it." And, boy, did we recognize it.

I'm not really sure I can describe it, but here's a picture.

So basically it's a pavilion with ice. And it wasn't very large. If you got a zamboni on the ice it would probably only have room to move back and forth. Don't even think about turning around. You should also know that it was about sixty-five degrees outside and raining. The pavilion more or less kept things dry, but between the leaky roof and the high temperatures, the ice was pretty wet and so were all the kids who had fallen down. The skates were kept in a little trailer. All the moisture in the air only helped to amplify that stinky shoe smell. I probably don't have to tell you that the blades on the skates were dull. So needless to say, I didn't try out my waltz jump, but I did make it around the rink a few times. And really thirty minutes was more than enough. I won't be in a rush to get back, but the ice skating rink did help make it a white trash Christmas.