It was Christmas in March here on Saturday, when my mom cashed in on my promise to take her to the roller derby. Now, I don’t like sports and my mom doesn’t like crowds, but we both enjoyed ourselves enough to happily stay through four and a half hours of people skating in circles. See they weren’t just people. They were Nehi Nightmare, and Carmen Getit, and Fatal Attacktion. And these people could skate!
But there wasn’t just skating. There was Seattle’s Cutest-but-Possibly-Least-Coordinated-Children’s-Drillteam for half time. There was a man yelling “Make ‘er work for it!” from behind us, like a over-zealous dad at a soccer game. There was the girl next to me who spilled her beer on someone and couldn’t stop giggling about it. There was a coach in a pink dress and heels. Roller derby is awesome. Also, if one happens to space out, or spend a long time texting one’s sister, one looks back up no more lost than one looked away. There will still be ladies shouldering each other out of the way. There will be whistles. There will be people popping in and out of time out and a man in devil horns narrating it all. There will still be people skating in circles. To pseudonyms.
The inevitable question that roller derby engenders is: what would your roller derby name be? This kept me and Nate busy all Sunday afternoon, on beaches, in forests, over a corn dog and ice cream. Nate had standards. A good roller derby name should have some sexiness, some violence, and at least a triple entendre, he felt. My mind drew blanks. But to quote a favorite children’s book,* “once you get started in thinking, you think and you think and you think,” and soon the names were rolling. Angela Death! Polly Slamorous! Heck yeah! Nate countered with Lonesome Shove and Beating Disorder. Google tells us we were the first to think of none of these. Does that make them bad or good?
* First person to name this book gets a blog post about anything they want. Google is cheating. Ready, set, go.