Wheels where my feet should be

An original literary non-fiction-style account of trying roller skates at an indoor skating session.

I had expected the difficulty to begin when I moved. In fact, standing up was sufficiently ambitious. The skates appeared to have reached a private agreement with the floor from which the rest of my body had been excluded. My knees travelled in different directions. I held the barrier with the expression of somebody inspecting its workmanship.

My nephew circled past and asked whether I was coming. I said that I was allowing the wheels to settle. He accepted this explanation with the kindness of a person who did not believe a word of it. Around us, people moved easily enough to hold conversations, straighten sleeves and point at things. I found pointing incompatible with remaining upright.

Eventually I pushed away. The barrier withdrew immediately, taking all reasonable certainty with it. For three seconds I travelled forwards without making a decision. Then I remembered that a journey ought to include a destination and reached for the next section of rail. My hand arrived before the rest of me, which followed in a series of small corrections.

My nephew waited beside me. He said that I had done well. I explained that I had only moved from one part of the barrier to another. He nodded and said that this was generally how people started. I looked back across the small gap. It appeared considerably longer than it had from the other side.

How does the writer use language to make the skating difficulties humorous?