Skate Witches

I had just walked in the lobby with my luggage when I met the sales manager of the hotel where I'm staying all month. We were talking and when I turned to the side, she saw the skateboard (wheels barely scuffed) strapped to the bag on my back.

"Well look at you!" she said. "Aren't you just the cutest thing!"

I gave her and the catering manager a possibly (definitely) over-long explanation of why I am carrying around a skateboard and how I am under orders (Happy orders, Matthew! Love you!) to learn to skate this summer.

"So if you see me out in the parking lot..." I said, pausing.

"Laying on the ground?" the catering manager offered.

Um, no! I was just going to say, "You'll know why," but thanks for assuming I will be eating shit, lady. She actually seemed very nice and not snarky so I think that was unintentional bitchiness on her part. In fact, I'm almost certain she was trying to work out a preemptive first aid plan.

That was two weeks ago.

For the last two weeks I have been talking about skating. I have been asked to bring the board to rehearsals and conveniently forgotten every morning. I have several crew members willing to give me pointers. I keep coming up with excuses: I'm wearing motorcycle boots, I just met the Idols and don't want breaking my bones in front of them to be a first impression, I have a lot of work to do (true but whatever).

In short, I have a long way to go before I'm a SKATE WITCH: