I’ve never been one to play it safe. I’ve wandered the streets of Harlem in full Carmen Miranda drag. I’ve owed money to Colombian drug lords. I’ve even navigated the Harbor Freeway Interchange in a blinding k-hole. But none of that compares to Saturday night when I went roller skating at the World on Wheels roller rink on Venice Blvd.

Mind you, I’m not somebody who moves with grace and purpose. I tend to fall down a lot even when I’m not on wheels. And I haven’t been on wheels since the 7th grade.

It didn’t help that I was in a little brown velvet suit. I didn’t know this, but apparently people don’t wear suits to roller skate in. My friend Eva was dressed in her usual mod Swedish airline stewardess attire, which turned a few heads, but was perfect for leaping about. Which she did. A lot. She and her husband David soared around the rink, doing triple lutzes and backward salchows. It was breathtaking to watch.

I hugged the walls and inched my way slowly but surely. Children dive-bombed me. Grannies taunted me. Various members of the Bloods and Crips conspired to trip me up. Have I mentioned yet, that this was an “urban” skating rink? In scenic South Los Angeles? If somebody would have alerted me to this fact, I probably would have laid off the chocolate-brown eye shadow and Mary-Kate and Ashley “melon-delight” lip crystals (available at Wal-Mart!).

Anyway. Suffice it to say, I have never been so uncool in my entire life. There was one humpy blonde boy there who looked like Rolfe from The Sound of Music – (Liesl’s telegram boy – you know the one). We chatted for a minute, but as I was clutching the side rail for dear life, he saw I had no game and left me on my face. From now on, I’m sticking to the Spotlight.