Ice Capades

Fig1. Think this dude but faster, higher, and slightly more gutsy


Monday is public skating at Carleton's ice house.

It's been Ian's and my routine to go there and spice things up a little with our hijinks like synchronized out-of-control skating. But today was different.

While sitting on the ground, my legs straight out in front of me as Ian gracefully pulled me around in a circle, I spotted her. The lone figure-skate wearer of the rink. She was taking off her coat - then she undid her ponytail so as she breezed along the boards her blond hair flew back like motion streaks. In Ian's words, she was a librarian fantasy on ice.

In my usual MO, I glided beside her and asked for her advice. She patiently guided my steps as I learned the waltz jump, a trick that has nothing to do with dancing the waltz and everything to do with not falling down.

Fantasy-on-ice demonstrated the jump for me, and I copied it with the to-do of a preschooler fingerpainting Emily Carr.

Suddenly Ian appeared out of nowhere headed backwards at a terrifying speed. He launched off the ice, spun around like Elvis Stojko, and landed perfectly on one skate.

"You're not jumping," he informed me. "You have to push off."

Apparently Ian can do waltz jumps with poise and elegance he lacks in his encouragement.

Fantasy-in-ice was not as critical as my roommate who I suddenly realized would star in my next film - journalists on ice.

I'll make up for my lack of excellence in skating by my excellent camera work and uploading to Youtube.