There are rollerbladers all over the place here. In places you wouldn’t expect. “But wait,” you may be thinking, “isn’t it cold outside with snow and slush covering the ground?” Yes. It is. And so they skate through malls, subways, a rare patch of cleared ground in the city, just about anywhere that the ground isn’t terrain better-suited for alaskan huskies. It’s weird to be standing in the cereal aisle and have someone zip by, gliding on their 8 wheels. I’m sorry, it just is. Don’t they realize that rollerblading was a fad in the US that went out with neon colors, Alf, and the word “NOT!”?
I’d read in a magazine before coming here that the sport or rollerblading had lived on in Paris after it disappeared in the US. So much so that there are races, clubs, and underground posses... even police who train and work daily on wheels to keep up with the civil skaters. I’m here to tell you that it at least appears to be true.
I think some of the skaters down at our super-shopping center are actually employees. It kind of makes sense to send someone on wheels down to aisle 27 for a price check, I guess? Still, I look up every time and shake my head just a bit.