According to its weathered billboard, Circus Skate is the world's largest indoor roller skating rink. Of course, no one believes that. They might as well say that it's the home of the Loch Ness Monster because the only people who believe that Murray, KY is the home of the world's largest roller skating rink are the people who have never left Murray, Ky.
But when I was a kid, it was paradise. A roller skating paradise. There weren't a lot of options for a kid growing up in Murray. You could rent a VCR from the Cheri. (Yeah, that's right, we used to rent VCRs. The first time I saw "The Princess Bride" it was on a rented VCR.) You could bike around town aimlessly. You could hunt for crawdads in the creek behind Sara Fitts' house. Or, every now and then, you were able to convince your parents to drop you off at the little oasis on the northern outskirts of town. Past Roy Stewart Stadium. Past the old Krogers. Past the Chu's restuarant on the left — Circus Skate. If you didn't know any better you would drive right past it, just assuming it was an old abandoned dump. But it wasn't. No sir. It was the world's largest indoor skating rink. (And the home of Nessie.)
The rink was divided into two sections: the main skating rink and then the smaller, enclosed, room with the couches, mood lighting, and pillows — lots of pillows. You could easily skate between the two or you could just skate in the well-lit, STD-safe area. Years later (and I mean years later) I would figure out the smaller section was a make-out room, but back then I was a precocious pre-teen who couldn't imagine touching a girl let alone cuddling up on a bacteria-filled pillow with a girl in roller skates to suck face. Plus, why smooch when I could be skating? I didn't pay the rental fee to sit down by god! I could suck face on my own time. (Actually, I couldn't.) I paid the creepy guy behind the counter who always smiled a bit to much my $5 to skate and I was going to skate.
Sadly, I wasn't that great of a skater. That should come as no surprise to those who have seen me walk into walls, fall down stairs, or trip over a few (thousand) guitar chords. When god was handing out coordination I was evidently out taking a leak. Despite that, and the thousands of bruises I got from bashing into walls or falling on my bum, I loved roller skating. I loved it for that moment that would happen every now and then. You'd get into a rhythm and everything clicked. Around and around the oval you would go; the wind flowing in your hair as you passed the old couples holding hands or the little kids holding on to the rail. The realization would hit you that you were doing it. Yes, you were doing it! You were honest-to-god skating! You didn't have to think about it, your body just magically did it. And it was awesome. Unbelievably awesome. Around the rink you went, wondering the entire time if the pretty brown-haired girl with dimples was watching. You imagined her, mouth wide open, staring in amazement, as you made the rink your playground. "Wow," she surely was thinking, "that Rob Carpenter is amazing. I'm going to marry him some day and have his babies." And then, as you fantasized about her running over, throwing herself into your arms, and planting a kiss that would stop time, that stupid little break on the front of your skate would catch and you would go tumbling head first on the cold, hard laminate floor.
More than anything else though — more than the odd smell of foot fungus and stale popcorn, more than the creepy guy who smiled too much, more than that one kid everyone hated who was so awesome on skates that he could skate circles backwards around you while the girls swooned and you swore you would punch him in the face one day — more than all of that, the one thing I remember the most about Circus Skate was Michael Jackson's "Thriller." The highlight of the night — every night — was when the lights would go down, the disco ball would start spinning, and they would play the extended version of one of the all time greatest songs. Keep in mind that the song came out in 1982 so it was several years later that I was going to Circus Skate — but it was still the defining moment of the evening. (There's a joke in Murray that we're about five years behind the rest of the United States.) When that beat started, and that bass line kicked right in — everyone stopped what they were doing and headed to the rink. Young and old. Boys and girls. Everyone. Conversations were put on hold. Corn dogs were left on the counter. It was "Thriller" time.
And for me, it was the reason I was there. It sounds absolutely ridiculous but I would psych myself up as the song started, convince myself that I wasn't going to fall, that I was going to be able to skate the entire time of the song. Not for me. Not for my own ego. But for Michael. And I wasn't even that big of a Michael Jackson fan! Sure, I had the album. Everyone had the album. But for some reason, when "Thriller" came on it was just me and Michael.
To this day whenever I hear "Thriller" I have this odd desire to lace up some skates and go around in a circle. There's part of me who desperately wants to drive to Murray right now, pay that creepy guy my $5, and ask them to play "Thriller." And I promise I wouldn't fall.
Everyone has at least one Michael Jackson story. That's mine. Rest In Peace Michael.