An Obituary to an Icon: The Jellybeans Legacy


After a long week of tiresome work, where would you go to commemorate the start of a rad weekend? A place that had become more than somewhere to hang out for a few hours, but a home for so many. A place that gave you the best kind of nerves on the drive down, and would have you passed out from exhaustion on the drive home. It gave you the reassurance that you had made it through the week, and you were done thinking about it. The sun would start to set as your parents’ compact car made its way down the hill and your eyes instantly rested on the giant skate by the entrance. You had reached your favorite place — the Jellybeans skating rink on Buck Jones Road in Cary. 

A part of me thought that skate could never leave — that in 20 years, the next generation would be baffled by its vintage appeal. I’d tell the stories of many memories filled with laughter surrounding that skate. But it’s gone. And I didn’t even get to say a proper goodbye. I guess it just goes to show that nothing lasts forever…not even a skating rink. 

Sure, there are plenty of other rinks to visit and spend my Friday nights with, but it will never be the same. How could it? I’d feel like I was cheating on Jellybeans, and I couldn’t do that — not after its long struggle for survival before succumbing to end the pain. But it was always the little things that I loved most about JB. No other skating rink could ever have the same crooked floors of the girls’ bathroom, where it felt like you were a professional roller derby player just to get into a stall. While most rinks chose to have the rink on the same level as the carpet and arcade games, Jellybeans took it a step up — quite literally. Well, more like a step down. But who would’ve thought that the worst part of getting in and out would be the lego-style mats that appear beforehand and not the step itself? JB always kept me on my toes, making me ponder the question of if I should wear thin socks to barely fit into a nine, or super thick ones and pretend that the ten fit perfectly. It was always the little things whenever I would go, and it’s the little things I hope I never forget. 

I can’t just go somewhere else. It wouldn’t feel right. JB dug me out of deep, dark holes and made me feel like myself again. Simply hearing “Party in the USA” by Miley Cyrus gave me the confidence to do whatever I wanted — which usually ended with me smashing up against the wall. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to hear that song the same way again. It just hurts a little too much. 

As time moves on, I’m sure the pain will fade away. And in its place instead will be all the memories and moments of pure happiness that will always be associated with crossing JB’s threshold.  You will be missed, Jellybeans. I can’t wait until we meet again at the giant roller skate in the sky.