Twins Jennifer and Patricia Mikell meet Michael Weiss at the Fairfax Ice Arena. You "establish a lot of relationships when you spend four hours a day at the same rink...," Weiss said. (Joel Richardson/The Washington Post)

About 150 people surrounded the rink, waiting for what has become a traditional performance. Weiss's family, friends, Fairfax neighbors — and even some strangers — milled bout in clusters, as they have on so many Friday evenings. The crowd extended around the far ends of the rink. Some observers sat on the few available sets of bleachers.

While many elite level skaters eventually leave their homes to join famous coaches, Weiss has been at the same ice arena, with the same coach, for 13 years. Along the way, Friday nights at the arena have evolved into something special, both because of Weiss's stature — he qualified for his first Olympic team during last week's national championships — and his strong roots in the community.

"We don't really advertise it, but it's been somewhat designated as the day people come out and hoot and holler" for Weiss, said Henry Weisiger, a manager at the rink who is married to Weiss's longtime coach Audrey. "It's been building."

Said Weiss: "You meet a lot of people, establish a lot of relationships, when you spend four hours every day at the same rink for the last 13 years."

The Friday nights at the rink started with Weiss's family four years ago because that was the only time everyone was off from work.

Even now, after each of these Friday sessions, the entire Weiss family-he and his parents, Greg and Margie; his wife Lisa Thornton and her parents; and Weiss's sisters Genna and her fiancee and Geremi and her husband-drives to a nearby Chinese restaurant for dinner. Ownership knows to have the back room ready.

The number of spectators at the rink has grown steadily, especially since Weiss competed in the world championships in Lausanne, Switzerland, last spring. Family members started to bring friends. Friends brought more friends. Word also simply seeped through the community. Now, there is a regular crowd of about 40 that assembles at the rink each week, giving Weiss its full attention when he runs through his four-minute long program.

"Everybody really just wants to talk to each other, because they don't get to see each other all week," Weiss said. "I'm just sort of the entertainment."

As the first notes of Beethoven's piano sonata "Egmont Overture" crackled over the loudspeakers, conversation gradually ceased. For the young skaters, that's their signal to give way to Weiss. After taking a familiar pose near center ice, he began the dramatic program that helped him win a spot on the Olympic team at the figure skating national championships in Philadelphia just eight days earlier.

Several children immediately skated to the side. They stood or crouched with their backs against the boards, eyes fixed on Weiss. A handful of other children, engrossed in their own work and oblivious of the music, continued skating until Weiss's program was well underway. When they finally realized the show had begun, like late stage hands they scrambled out of the spotlight.

"Everybody in the D.C. area, especially the Fairfax area, has been so supportive," Weiss said in a quieter moment well before the practice. "So many people have been coming up, wishing me congratulations, it makes you feel so good and so proud. So many people in this area watched me progress through skating. When I make the Olympic team, it's like everybody is a big part of it."

When Weiss arrived home last Sunday from Philadelphia, he discovered about 40 messages on his answering machine at home. There were balloons strung from the Gold's Gym in Fairfax that his parents own. A banner — "Congratulations Michael Weiss, 1998 Olympic team member" — hung near the door of the Fairfax Ice Arena.

Soon after entering the arena at about 7:10 p.m. Friday, Weiss was surrounded by fans and friends. Six-year-old twins Jennifer and Patricia Mikell walked over immediately, surveying Weiss with some uncertainty as he took off his street shoes and laced up his skates. After several seconds, they asked if they could have a handshake. Smiling, Weiss leaned over to oblige.

Susan Litwinetz of Springfield shared the ice with Weiss when he began taking lessons. Litwinetz felt compelled to return to the rink Friday, having watched on television as Weiss finished second to Todd Eldredge at the national championships the week before.

"What a thrill, especially considering we have watched you skate since you were eight years old!" Litwinetz told Weiss. "That's what makes it a thrill."

Weiss's ninth-grade French teacher at W.T. Woodson High in Fairfax also showed up, and quickly found a prime viewing spot near center ice. During Weiss's high school years, Woodie Ischer said, Weiss didn't tell his classmates about his skating, even though he was winning junior titles. One day, however, when Weiss reported to Fischer that he had landed his first triple jump, another boy overheard. "Why aren't you in the Olympics?" the boy said.

"Because I've only done one," Weiss said.

Now, Weiss is trying to make history by becoming the first American skater to land a quadruple jump in competition.

On Friday night Weiss's father, Greg, performed remarkable maneuvers of his own. A gymnast in the 1964 Olympic Games in Tokyo, he held lengthy conversations with various people while continually turning his body in order to watch his son's entire workout. Margie Weiss, meanwhile, handed out hugs and handshakes to old and new friends. "When you are young, you think making the Olympic team will change your life completely," Michael Weiss said. "But then it actually happens, and what it does for me is make me appreciate everything I have. This is just icing on the cake, because I have so much going for me off the ice, my wife, my family."

When Weiss finished his long program at nationals, he received a deafening ovation from thousands of fans at Philadelphia's huge CoreStates Center. On Friday night, he finished with his arms raised-and his closest, dearest fans responded with hoots and whistles and claps. And then, with a disarming suddenness, normalcy resumed.

Weiss quickly spun around without a bow, pulled his baseball cap off his head, and ran a hand through his sweaty hair. He stared at the ice as he drifted to the side.

"The other kids have their workouts; this isn't the Michael Weiss show," he had explained earlier. Audrey Weisiger shouted — as she does every week — "THANK YOU FOR LEAVING THE ICE."

The little skaters returned, all at once, to their workouts. Suddenly, Fairfax Ice Arena looked, once again, like any other skating rink in any other city.