Pop quiz, hotshot: is this going to be a history lesson or a depressing story? Because I feel that's all I get to write in these columns anymore. So I decided, fuck it. Let's have some laughs. In fact, let's have some laughs at my expense.
When I was in high school, we had all sorts of bizarre PE classes. Stuff that just baffled my mind. Thankfully for most I got to sit them out and lift weights instead. This time? No such luck. We were in the smaller gym, far away from the weight room.
We were going to take a class on roller skating. I barely have coordination on my feet on a regular basis, and that was before I started drinking. Before I had a fucked up left foot. My right foot, when walking, goes out to a 45-degree angle, and I have no idea why. I've tried to fix it through willpower, but it hurts to keep that foot straight. Girlfriends who want to walk arm in arm with me find it impossible because of this foot. Two of them actually got angry with me over it.
I can't imagine what they would think now that my left foot is fucked up, too.
But for some unholy reason the PE department decided to do a roller skating class. Guess who can't roller skate. That's right, me. I tried to get out of it, but the PE teacher showed less mercy than John Kreese. So I was stuck.
I remember getting roller skates that would fit me. Back then I was a size ten, so I got those and sat down to strap them on. So far, so good. And then I realized that I had no idea how to stand. I was advised that there is this wedge at the front meant to stabilize me, so I used both to get up onto the wheels. After that, I was shit out of luck. Every move I made threatened to send me down on my ass, which I could live with, or on my face, which I couldn't.
Side note. The reason I was concerned about my face was not too long before this, I fucked up on a trampoline in another PE class and fell on my face, breaking my glasses. I had to go through the rest of my day essentially blind. I never wanted to do that again.
Everyone else started doing laps like they were Olympians. Me? I moved forward very carefully with my hands pressed firmly against the walls. If I had a window into the PE coach's head, I'm sure it would have been the meme with Michael Jackson eating popcorn. But that was before we had memes. Before we had a proper internet, actually. I think Al Gore was still working on it.
Eventually, one of my few friends took pity on me. I don't know how comfortable she would be with me naming her here, so I won't. But she offered to help me. She took me by the hand, and we did a few laps together, and it worked out very well. We did a turn and she told me she was going to let go now. Was I okay with that? I thought so.
She let go, and I was doing a really good job. And then the turn came. And I had no idea how to take a turn on my own. I panicked. I tried. And I wound up like Wile E. Coyote when he slams into a rock with a tunnel painted on it. I imagine that my arms and legs were out like that, but really I just smacked into the wall like an idiot, and I fell down onto my back, stunned.
If you're reading this, and since you're on my Facebook, you might be, I don't blame you for this. I'm just an idiot. So please, don't feel guilty.
At the time, I figured the PE teacher took pity on me. Now I think that he saw me as a liability to the school. So I got to sit out the rest of these classes until we moved on to a different physical activity. But I think this is why I feel so bad for Wile E. Coyote.
So there you go. Laugh it up, fuzzball.
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