The homeschool group my nephews belong to has been meeting once a week for ice skating, and today I joined them. I can't tell you how long it has been since I've skated, but I think my ankles can. Normally I leave the lacing of my skates rather loose for comfort and blood circulation, but today I found I needed a little more support. Having made that adjustment, however, I had a blast—and so, I believe, did my nephews. What a great way to get exercise without knowing it, at least until the skating is over. I'm also reliving my childhood, apparently, having just a few days earlier gone bowling, a sport last attempted even longer ago than skating.
After the skating was over, I made a point of thanking the person in charge of the music that played while we skated. The music itself was not spectacular, nor even enjoyable. It did include the obligatory Hokey Pokey, though not, I now realize, the Chicken Dance. What made the music so unusually delightful was that it was played at less than jet-engine assault volume. In this it contrasted starkly, not only with most skating rink experiences, but also church services, movie theaters, the above-mentioned bowling alley, and even Yorktown. (The last has some excuse, there being no volume knob on a cannon.)You found the music at the bowling alley loud? I could barely make it out over the other noises. We were playing the "who wrote this song" game (I lost to my son and my brother) and I had a hard time even knowing when the song changed.
You didn't notice when Faith and I suddenly disappeared? Fortunately, I had finished my last game when the girl at the desk decided the music wasn't loud enough for her. The general noise had actually been too loud before, but this was painful and probably over the threshold at which hearing damage is done. Heather thrust Faith into my arms, I wrapped my coat around us both, and we fled outside...then ran back in again because I realized I still had my bowling shoes on. Heather helped me quickly into my own so I wouldn't have to uncover Faith, and we sped back outside again. It was a quick process, otherwise I would gladly have ruined their shoes to prevent them ruining my granddaughter's ears!
Speaking of bowling, it was at that event that I discovered how much more pleasant the game is now. I had always enjoyed the game itself, but three things, now changed, made the general experience unpleasant enough to kill my desire to bowl. First, the atmosphere of thick cigarette smoke, now gone.
Second, the unfriendliness to children. Whoever thought of those bumper guards and the ball-rolling ramp was brilliant! But it's more than just those devices, thought the devices represent the change in attitude. I remember children being actively unwelcome at bowling alleys; perhaps they spoiled the atmosphere of beer and tobacco, I don't know. But kids (and their parents) received many a disapproving stare or even comment when they dared talk loudly, or bowl at the same time as someone in the next alley, or put a foot over the foul line, or—heaven forbid—allow their balls to drop onto the alley. This time I felt the alley recognized kids as not only present but future customers and made a point of trying to make the experience enjoyable for them.
Finally, I realized how much trying to keep score detracted from the experience for me, figuring out how many pins were actually knocked down, remembering how to score spares and strikes, the embarrassment of not doing the addition as fast as others thought I should...but now I can let the machine figure it all out, and relax and enjoy the game!
But the unavoidably loud noise of the crashing pins definitely does not need loud blaring music added to it. I'm hoping that in future generations it will go the way of the cigarette smoke.
The volume increase didn't register with me.
