Datebook: Monday, July 9th ~ 2007

21 days until Lake Placid.

504 hours.

In the past, I have proffered the suggestion of a comedy revue and a fashion show as diversions and entertainment during the skating week but I guess finding a venue for such a big crowd is a problem. Still, it seems to me that we should have some event that allows all of us to get together to revel in the memories and festivities--Maybe a picnic or a bull roast that we could tout as the “Lake Placid ‘Skating Family’ Reunion.

We could get t-shirts and cocktail napkins printed.

The problem is that during the week you only see skating people in four places:

• The rink—where you try out all of the facial expressions you have practiced in the mirror at home (these include the gritty “Oh, I’m not nervous, I just have irritable bowel syndrome”, and the “Oh, did the competition start already, I keep forgetting this isn’t merely a vacation” chuckle).
  
• The hotel lobby—either that of the Golden Arrow for those who want to stay on the same sea level altitude all week, or in the Crown Plaza for those who like to continue with their Lamaze breathing fifteen to twenty years after the baby.
  
• Main Street-where you watch for a break in the Ben and Jerry’s line and where you read the real estate listings for the golden opportunity of living La-Placid-Loco for another 51 weeks of the year.
  
• In The Gap—as my daughter points out, this is probably the only time most of us go in this chain store but it seems to have some type of magnetic attraction to all skating aficionados who simultaneously develop a burning desire for “4 for 20.00” white brief purchases.”

So, I think you’ll agree we need some type of opening ceremony before the actual commencement of this much anticipated event. For example, in Spain this week, before the beginning of the major bull-fighting season, there was the traditional “running of the bulls” through the streets of the famous quaint town. Young men find it exhilarating to run in front of the bulls and high-five each other if they only get cuffed by bull hoof, or get a minor pricking from a bull horn.

I pondered this and imagined we could all bring a “Zamboni” styled pinewood derby type car, painted in the colors of our home skating clubs, and race them down Main Street to the corner of Mirror Lake Drive.

Who knows, maybe the judges would decide separately to run in front of the pinewood cars for added excitement while the Dutch Waltz played from an ice-cream truck parked at the Hilton.

Perhaps Ann will take pity on us and will decide to rent a huge white party tent and put it on the oval at the high school for a huge pre-event barbecue.

We would pay of course.

Perhaps the organizers could procure pizza catered by Mikes, scallops distributed by Nicola’s, and soup from The Brown Dog Café.

If this doesn’t happen, I guess we can all meet near the briefs display at The Gap before all the size “S” is sold out.

That will be in 503 hours.

Mombo