Oh, the drama
I rolled off the back of the inside right heel, and did a mighty splat. Ass over teacups.
Anyway, I'm approaching my 69 th birthday, and my coach, and a guard, and a teenage freeskater as tall as Michele Obama, gathered around. I have that familiar feeling of being at the bottom a huddle of people fingers paused to dial 911.
My coach said, "Well are you getting up or what?"
"Or what. I think I hit my head."
"I was watching, I don't think you hit your head," she said. "And you have your pad in your hat,"
"I did hit my head." I grumble, "Is one eye bigger than the other?" My coach and the guard have to yank me to my feet, and at that point the rink guard just disappears and abandons me figuring if I'm not bleeding, I'm not speaking in tongues, I'm not declaring Ronald Reagan president, I'm probably not going to sue the rink or call an ambulance so he bolts.
I'm so embarrassed. I had to be picked up off the ice, like so old lady. But once I get up...
"Okay Coach, let me shake out my muscles"
Fall down seven,
Get up 8
It's better than