Hell on Wheels

I guess women's roller derby is hip now. There's a major movie out about it, and since it's starring Ellen Page, it gets instant hipster cred. But we like to think, down here in Florida, that we're slightly immune to hipsterism. I mean, sure, there are small outbreaks of it around FAU and the Whole Foods in Boca. But generally, our demographic skews... older. Well, Fort Lauderdale is a slightly different story. Much wider array of people, larger population, etc. Well, Broward County has its own roller derby league. Hip has come to Florida.

If you had asked me if I wanted to go see roller derby, of course I would have said yes. What a great example of female empowerment! Woman-on-woman violence doesn't really count as violence, not like it does if men and women were beating on each other. Just like boxing is an old and esteemed sport. Well, turns out that one of Cabana Boy's friends is an MC for several derby circuits, and would be working the gig in Broward. Now I had a legitimate reason to attend!

Doors opened at 5pm. We got there around 5:15. Parking was a nightmare. Getting in to the rink was a nightmare. Maybe these girls are hell on wheels, but they're not so great at working a door. Finally we get inside. I don't know if you went roller skating as a child. I did. I was just the funnest thing, but the rinks weren't exactly high-class joints. This particular rink was firmly rooted in roller disco, and maintained the requisite decor. We ended up sitting in the snack bar, as there was no more room on the rink (either in the folding chairs or sitting cross-legged on the floor, hoping not to get crunched). I watched the entire match standing up on a banquette.

However, the clientele didn't seem to be firmly rooted in anything. There was a mix of hot lesbians, not-hot lesbians, fanboys who wanted to see some fishnets, goth kids, a few hipster couples swigging from flasks, and, strangely, many babies and toddlers. If not for the children, it would have felt like I was back at Lilith Fair. Michelle mentioned to me that she was the only person there without a tattoo. I offered to draw on her with the Sharpie in my purse, but I don't think she was interested. Two little girls selling baked goods to raise money for the team wore cat ears and tails. The place was a social anthroplogist's dream come true.

The match itself, once I figured out what was going on, was very exciting. It's not always about punching some chick in the face, or pushing her into the wall. It's more about a nimble weaving in and out of moving bodies, balanced on wheels and going fast. All while wearing fishnets. It's very high scoring, and includes a "halftime." My favorite part was when our goth MC would call out plays, and count "1, 2, 3, 4, 5... Yahtzee!" I don't actually know why he would say that, but he would, and it made me smile. Clearly, I have to look up more details on the scoring.

Everyone's attention was focused firmly on the flat-track when the paramedics had to be called over with their stretcher. A girl went down, and she didn't get back up. But, sadly, no blood, no need to actually put her on the stretcher. Looked like -- from where I was standing in the snack bar -- that she had the wind knocked out of her. We all clapped as she was gently tugged off to the sidelines.

I am excited for the next season to start. I look forward to getting there early, not dealing with parking nightmares, and getting to sit right up front. I look forward to learning exactly what's going on. This seems like a sport I can totally get into.