Contrary to my first two visits to the Skate Shop, this was actually easy. I wasn't treated dismissively and K got some great skates. I mean, GREAT skates.
We got there a little early, as I had padded the time of the trip by fifteen minutes to allow for lights, accidents, me getting lost, that stuff. None of that happened. I pull into an empty lot and we settle in to wait. Within a few minutes, a big black Lexus SUV pulls up next to me with a mom, a dad, and a bouncing little girl inside.
Oh crap, here we go.
Mom and Dad wait in the car for a few minutes, then get out as the clock ticks nearer to opening time. Now, the door sign states "Closed." I work in a retail environment, and CLOSED means WE'RE FUCKING CLOSED AND YOU ARE NOT COMING IN. I get that, and so I respectfully stayed in my car to wait, where we watched clouds and the amazing blue sky. Mom and Dad, however, were peering into the windows, knocking on the glass, and tugging on the door. See "CLOSED" point I made prior.
I wondered if skating parents, by the fact they often spend money out their gilded assholes, believe themselves to be unfettered by trivial things like CLOSED signs. I believe I had my answer.
At opening time, the sign was flipped to OPEN and I saw them being let in. I popped the trunk, and a train went by.
"THAT WAS AN AMTRACK!" K shouted.
"Do you want to wait for a minute and see if another goes by?" I wanted to spare him exposure to the crystalline pink sweet of a tiny girl skater and her entitled parents. The last time this happened, mom was an utter bitch who must have known I wasn't even close to her tax bracket.
"YES!" K agreed to wait for a moment.
I stuck my head in the door, where, sure enough, Princess Sparklypoo was flurrying over spinners the Zuca Bags. The pink ones. I'll write about the Ultimate Scam that is the Zuca Bag later. "We're here for a fitting, but he's waiting to see if a train goes by," I explained briefly.
The store people understood.
But no train came, and so unfortunately we had to go in and listen for a moment as they agonized over a pink frame and which spinner to purchase.
A nice man sat down with us to talk skates. K volunteered that he was in Pre-alpha, but doing spins and jumps and crossovers. Nice Man agreed that a lace-up was in order. He measured and thought, then disappeared.
Then the unthinkable happened. He came out with a pair of Boy Skates, USED!! "I have these, they might work."
"GOD BLESS YOU," I was so relieved. I was anticipating the worst, $150 to $200. These were $70, and they were nice skates.
Mumsy and Daddums heard my proclamation of relief, and they shot me a look. I wondered if Used Skates had ever graced their child's feet.
The man laced them up, K walked around for a bit and declared them good. The blades were examined, and were in such good shape as to not need a sharpening that day. We got a coupon for a free sharpening later on.
Princess bought her Pink Zuca and Pink frame, while I waited to be rung up. The man was even kind enough to put together the new blade guards for me. (I lost the last pair. bad me. Yes, they have to be assembled. Cut first, then screwed together. It's so lame.)
It's an odd juxtaposition; K's new-to-you skates which were a bit scuffed, versus a Zuca fitted out with glitter and gold accents. Money is a part of this culture, like it or not. I often wonder at the wisdom of pursuing this in the first place. Monied people are often not good people, and to expose my fragile K to some of the unintended meanness might be hard. But hey, this is all about growing up, right? Right.
I left feeling good. I'd saved a buttload of money, and was walking out with skates. I was ready to be waiting for four weeks, because that's what they told me about needing to order boy skates. We went to Target for beverages and shoe polish, and to kiss the day off right, Target was now selling boy's compression shirts for $10.
K was going to look like a pro today.
Sometimes I feel like the universe is with me. She's on my side, giving me what I need when I need it. Now that we're home, I saw the "Wilson Excel" on the blades. These are $60 blades. The boots are Riedell of some quality; the soles are not PVC. Buying these new would have been out of the question.
But the stars aligning also makes me wonder about fate. Is it fate? Was this "Meant to Be?" Saint Lidwina, is that you? If it is, then I thank you.
Back to the rink in a half hour, to try new skates!