I’m not sure how this bit started, but some friends and I committed to make a roller skating outing before the end of the semester. We did some research, found a place about 40 minutes away called Roll-A-Way Skating Center in Newark, Ohio, and –wow!– our research revealed the place was open 24-hours on Saturdays. Okay, yes, fair, that seems like a red flag, but we trusted it. Upon our arrival, at 11:30 AM, we felt an initial wave of panic. The place looked sketchy as hell. But, damn, the parking lot was PACKED, so we still had hope. When we entered the lobby, we felt our bodies transported to another dimension. Kids were everywhere, clutching beautifully wrapped birthday presents for some kid named Daniel. It was the aesthetic of the lobby that really did a number on us. It felt like a family-owned, run-down carnival ride that had been passed down to some weird nephew named Scotty in Grampy Herbert’s will, and that weirdo Scotty converted it into a 24-hour roller skating rink for birthday parties. But alas. There was a fatal flaw in our plan. From the darkness, an adult man with a goatee emerged, who I can only assume is weird-Scotty, and he said to us, “There’s a private party happening today. You get our hours on the Google?” to which we replied yes. He then over-explained his personal feud with the multi-national technology company. The word “insidious” was used a minimum of 3 times. He apologized and hoped that, for our sake, one day “Google will be sued out of existence!” Anyway, we fled the scene and drove another hour to a different skating rink. We made sure to call and confirm their public skate hours, because goddammit, we would not be duped by that insidious Google again!

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