Exemptions to nonprofit ... skating facilities (26USC4241)

Confession time: At one point in my life I wanted to be a professional roller skater. After an initial outing to the local rink as a Girl Scout and a few lessons afterward, I thought I was destined to be the Dorothy Hamill of the hardwoods; I was even willing to copy her haircut if necessary. This ambition faded as soon as I found out that I could never become good enough to earn a gold medal, especially because the sport wasn't and still isn't part of the Olympics. 

But some dreams die hard, and I still made a few trips to the rink while in high school, when I was well past the average -- and acceptable -- age of the crowd (I remember getting hit on by a very brave pre-teen, but by then, the ability to skate backwards was no longer a reason to accept a couple-skate invitation). I didn't get back on the rink until I felt a desire to inculcate the younger generation, especially after the owners of my hometown skate place decided there wasn't enough interest to reopen after arson burned the place down.

I thought for sure that most roller rinks were flaming out, but then, someone figured out that the way to win popularity for roller skating was to differentiate it as much as possible from ice skating, particularly the goody-two-shoes image of Hamill. The X-Games and American Gladiators gave birth to Rollerjam, and soon, another reason to wear fishnet tights was revived: roller derby.

After I found out that one of my fellow Posties skates for a team in Orlando, the Psycho City Derby Girls, I figured San Diego had to be in on the trend, and sure enough, there are not one but two teams: the Starlettes (flat track) and the Derby Dolls (banked track). Because a friend found the flat-trackers first, my first foray into the sport was a B-team bout between the Rockettes and Prison City Derby Dames.

At first, I was enamored merely by the atmosphere. It was like I was right back at my beloved Coliseum, complete with the grungy bathrooms, claw-crane machine, and psychedelic starry-blue carpet that must be mandatory for roller rinks. About the only differences were that the rink had a track laid out with tape (left) and areas marked "danger zones" a few feet from the track (right).

My interest only increased when the action started. I hadn't done any research on the Women's Flat Track Derby Association rules, but I didn't need to in order to see that these were real athletes. I won't go into great detail here, but the main roles are blockers and jammers. Blockers have to knock into others without losing their balance (left). Jammers have to be able to skate fast on a very tight track without spinning out (right). By far, my favorite team member was Shanghai Surprise, who was obviously a talented jammer, even to my untrained eye.

But even when I respect athletes, that doesn't always mean I want to watch them in person (especially if I can watch them from the comfort of my couch). To really put a sporting event over the top, there has to be a sense of a community. The Rockettes were clearly fan-friendly, handing out noise-makers to children to use during the bout (left) and slapping some skin with all ages during the team introductions beforehand (right).

 

And they weren't just building a fan community but also supporting the local one. At the entrance, there was a booth for a St. Patrick's Day themed bake sale and a few tables for local products, including dog treats -- organic, of course. An overwhelming local favorite belted out the national anthem, and a local dance studio busted a move for a "halftime show" (below).

 

So, I'm not a big fan of fishnets, but just like with the bowl haircut, I would be willing to make sacrifices to become a derby girl. But unfortunately, with my recent spate of hard head hits, I think maybe it's best I stay a spectator for now. After all, I need some time to come up with a good name; Eezzz Nutzzz 805 is already taken.

Opportunity to enjoy and learn about great whales (16USC3703)

After reading my friend Joe Donatelli's column about how he did NOT watch whales, I made sure to keep my expectations low as we headed down to Ensenada for a Saturday of whale watching. Because they are along the gray whale migration route, many Pacific coast charter outfits shell out tours with near-guarantees that you will behold ballenes. The number of Groupons alone makes you feel obligated to take the chance on a tour. And after all, these marine mammals are a lot more fun to follow than the only wild-animal show in northeast Ohio: the buzzard migration route.

Sadly, as Joe's column attests, the oceanic sightings aren't always so stunning. But we started the day with some auspicious signs. The rainy and cloudy weather broke, putting the Baja coast in the 80s for the first time in a few weeks. Then, because of our persuasive organizer, our group was split among two boats, putting only 10 people on each deck. This allowed pretty much all of us to squeeze on the best viewpoint of the boat, the bow; our companions on the other ship took advantage of the same abundance of space.

With a more-than-four-hour tour ahead of us, we packed a picnic, complete with adult beverages. We picked up some Pacifico, which just so happened to match the name of the operation providing our tour, Pacifico Sport Fishing. After sailing for about 45 minutes into deeper seas, I snapped some shots of the "Plan B" we sipped as we tried to spy some water spouting.

Slowly but surely, we started to see movements that indicated something other than kelp. At first, the "logging" motions were a far cry from the typical whale behavior presented in Pacific Life commercials. We never did get to see a whale jump up a waterfall or over the boat Free Willy-style, but we were lucky enough to see one whale "breaching," meaning that it pushed a good portion of its body above the water, somewhat like the Pacific Life logo.

 

But of course, I didn't manage to record that with my camera, and since I can't post photos of it here, it's pretty much like the breach didn't even happen. In fact, it was quite difficult to capture what I could see through the lenses of my eyes through the lens of my camera. By a fluke, I was able to catch a couple whales "fluking," including one zoom shot that was almost in focus.

After a while, we stopped tailing the whales, because we certainly couldn't follow them all the way back to their summer homes in the north, where they were heading after giving birth further south in Bahía Sebastián Vizcaíno. As we headed back to the dock, we came across a pod of dolphins that rewarded us for our lack of resentment over how the whales kept their distance. Quite a few of them swam right along the boat, jumping and diving in front of us as if they were playing a game of chicken.

Back on shore, we topped off the trip with a few tacos, with shrimp and marlin, and a trip to the fish market, where we bought some jumbo shrimp and grouper to grill at home. Although I feel entirely fulfilled by my whale-watching adventure, I wouldn't mind getting even closer to these graceful creatures, so maybe next year we humans will migrate south to Guerrero Negro, to see them up close in their breeding grounds.