Lisa's Diary
by Dave Barth
June 9, 1992
This story is factual, with some self-deprecating guesses about what Lisa thought about me (if she had any opinions at all). I saw her at the rink on June
9th, 1992, and wrote the story that same night. I saw her a few weeks later, then she was gone, back to the tour. I never saw her again.
My name is Lisa. This would be sort of an entry to my diary, if I kept one. Instead, this is just a memory note to myself to document a coincidental string of
events that occurred on Tuesday, June 9, 1992.
First, a little background. It was seven years ago when I last ice skated at the Denver University Arena. Back then, I was a skate guard. I had a neat deal there
because not only did I get to skate often, but I got paid for it. However, the management frowned on me doing any heavy duty free style skating while I was on
duty. Anyway, there was this older guy who would say, "Hi," now and then. He seemed nice enough, but he was, like, old enough to be my father. Besides, he
was a figure skater, and I was more interested in some of the hockey skaters my age. They were more masculine and macho than the male figure skaters. I
figured most of the men who figure skated were, well, you know: odd.
Well, I got my B.S. from Stanford in 1990, majoring in biology and elementary education. I got a job teaching disadvantaged children which was challenging, but
at the same time, rewarding. The combination of biology and education background really helped me successfully work with these kids.
In college, I was a good student. I guess I was a bit of a distraction to a lot of the boys, who tended to try to get seats around me in class. I was just trying to get
the most out of the classes. The guys' hormones must have been tormenting them, because a lot of those who sat around me flunked out. I guess they
concentrating on the lectures. Of course, I didn't show them any mercy. I wore tights and a tight, cutoff "T."
Anyway, I did well enough at Stanford to get accepted into a masters program. While in it, a girl friend of mine told me about the Disney ice show, and suggested
I try out. At first, I didn't pay any attention, but the more I thought about it, the more my curiosity was aroused. I took a deep breath and signed up for the audition.
They had me skate for an hour. It was intensive, but I did well. Most of the stuff they wanted to see was footwork and basic moves. At the end, they let me show
my jumping ability. Since I wasn't trying out to be an understudy, that was just icing on the cake. I was hired.
Everyone thinks that show skaters live a rich, glamorous life. It is a lot of travelling, and not big bucks. But for someone like me, who is single and not tied down, it
can be a lot of fun. It is a matter of attitude. I love it. Next year we go on a world tour, and I feel really pleased that this opportunity came about at the right time in
my life.
One aspect of show skating is important: if you gain weight, you get dumped. No one wants to watch a fat skater. That is just the way it is, however cruel it might
be. I have never had a weight problem, and at twenty-five, I am still in excellent shape. Well, my body isn't perfect, but most men are too blinded by my shapely
figure and my dynamite looks to notice. I guess that when I hit thirty five or forty, I will have to watch my calorie intake a little more closely.
In the show, I met a really nice guy. We are very close. I guess I could admit that I love him. He can't skate worth a darn, but the good side of that is that we
don't compete with each other in skating. We are great pals, too.
On the night of Monday, June 8th, I had the strangest dream. I dreamed that I was back at D. U., skating just as I did in the old days, and there were some of the
old gang there. It was weird. I never dreamed about skating at D.U. before, but there it was, this strange dream.
So, maybe fate intervened, because on Tuesday, I decided to go to the evening session. As I was lacing up my skates, in walks a familiar face. It was that old guy
who used to say "Hi" to me when I skated here and was still in high school. It was comforting to see someone I knew. In fact, he was the only person I saw that
night whom I recognized. But I had to walk a fine line. I didn't want to lead him on, but at the same time, it was nice to have someone around that I knew.
After exchanging pleasantries, we stepped onto the ice and went our own ways. His skating was about the same as it was years ago, except he didn't jump as
much, but I wasn't paying much attention to him. I was working on my skating, especially spins, camels, double toes, and axles. I did pretty well, and I never fell
down, which was good because there were wet spots on the ice.
The old guy must have been around forty by the looks of his round stomach and thinning hair. Maybe around forty two, but if he had the audacity to ask me to
guess his age, I would have lied on the low side of forty to build up his ego. It is amazing how fragile men's egos are.
He mentioned he had a "significant other," which was lucky for him, otherwise, at his age and with his looks, he would probably have to pay for sex. Well, that's
being a little hard on him. He wasn't that bad, but he didn't do anything for me. Maybe a blind, wrinkled old grandmother in a nursing home would go for him.
He did fall in a wet spot on the ice, and when he made a self deprecating remark, something like, "It looks like I should wear Attends," at first I gave him a curious
look that must have made him think I believed him. His wink and quick smile revealed he was kidding.
I made sure that he knew I had a very close boyfriend. I really do, but I didn't want him to come on to me. A lot of guys do, and if I make sure they understand that
I am committed to somebody, they back off. It saves me a lot of embarrassment and the guy a lot of rejection.
So, my dream was very strange because it sort of came true. Being back home, living with my parents during the off season, I suppose my subconscious recalled
my happy days skating in Denver, and my dream was a replay of skating at D.U. I guess the dream was almost predictable.
Anyway, it was good to go back, but the old D. U. rink sure is depressing compared to skating in a Disney production with a packed house of 12,000 appreciative
spectators applauding and giving us standing ovations. I love it. I will live it as long as I enjoy it, and then I will have the great memories to tell my children and
grandchildren.
Maybe my boyfriend and I will marry, maybe not. The old guy at the rink said probably some rich guy would sweep me off my feet and we would live happily ever after,
but I think I'll marry for love. It is the only way for me.
Lisa, June 9, 1992, Denver, Colorado.