Rock ‘n’ roller skate

Something changes in a person when they pass through the doors of a skating rink.

You become a part of a world within the world; a time warp that transcends technology, style—even fashion. OK, definitely fashion.

During my high school years in central Florida, I saw this transformation over and over. Working as a DJ at the local skating rink, I even played a role in it.

I lived in a small town, so the rink was the place to see and be seen. As the DJ, I led these skating sessions and all the junior high parties. My booth was outfitted with a very important set of tools: two turntables and a microphone. Behind my set of turntables sat two bins crammed with vinyl pressings of rink classics. Skating rink music is almost its own genre, a category maybe best described by one word: Jamz.

This was an era of freestyle and booty music; artists like Lil’ Suzy, Afrika Bambaataa, The Egyptian Lover and Stevie B. You may not recognize the names, but you know the songs.

On the sounds of these records, the lights danced, the floor spun, and I honed my mixing and scratching skills. I can still do this today, now in my 30s, if given the opportunity.

I used music to control the tempo in the entire building, slowing it down during the “couples” and “backward” skates.

This always proved to be the most divisive affair of the evening. Half the skaters would get excited at the prospect of having someone’s hand to hold—a requirement to skate as a couple—or showing off their ability to skate in reverse. But the other half was forced to sit out while this happened. Soon, though, I’d pick up the tempo with a faster song, and everyone would be back on the floor and in good spirits for the “all skate.”

I actually overcame the majority of my fear of public speaking right from that DJ booth, mic in hand. I would explain the rink rules, lead games like “Red Light, Green Light,” and watch them skate—laughing, racing each other, finding each other, finding camaraderie, falling down and picking themselves up again.

At times it looked messy out there, but in a way, from my DJ booth, it also looked a lot like life.

Read about Baton Rouge’s long-time roller rink owner Leo Seaman II.