|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
←/ o n e / m o r e / t i m e /→ |
|
/ n o w / / t h e n / - 2 0 0 6 → / w r i t e / / e t c / / d l a n d / |
|
go big red 10-6-'o1: 11:56pm "damnit...we should have stopped and picked up some peppermint schnapps." we had just gotten to albi stadium and chelsea sounded frustrated. it kind of summed up the whole day. i felt kind of like dante hicks in clerks..."i wasn't even supposed to be here today!" except instead, it was "i should have been at cavalcade of bands today!" as we surveyed the percussion equipment that had been taken down to the field, we noticed that a few very crucial elements were missing. mallets, for one...along with the bass, the bells, and the small percussion instruments we use on the "standstill" tunes so we...well, have something to do. this meant that one of us would have to travel the half hour back to cheney to get the stuff, or there would be no pit and hence, no point in us being there at all. so chelsea left to get the mallet box, and in the process we found the bells and bass. two bell kits, as a matter of fact, had been brought. we got set up and proceeded to stand around waiting for chelsea to arrive with the mallets. i practiced due to the fact that i had them with me but...bells? who cares. then it was off to lunch. or, rather, sitting around with a nasty can of pepsi one, talking to people occasionally. i stood alone until thomas came and joined me. i was then joined by teri, which brought wayne. "when i look at your hair from here it looks a lot more...real." he meant the colour...the sentence didn't exactly come out right, though. and within the next few minutes, they all left me. then, i noticed, they had just come back together at a different spot, me not included. screw this. i am going to become a hermit. i went over and hung out with chelsea, which meant that i mostly complained. then...the game. the drumline had a great trick...i think chris came up with it. they would play a steady 4/4 beat, then throw in a bar of odd meter. this baffled the cheerleaders...and even though the drumline continued to do this throughout the night, they nevert quite got it. we just laughed. it kind of reminded me of the parades that i marched in high school, where the drummers would traditionally start playing 5-7-9 at the end of the route. 5-7-9 is an odd meter warmup that takes you through 5/8, 7/8, and 9/8. the band would always be practically tripping over themselves trying to stay in step. i always found this amusing. i guess you'd have to be a percussionist to get it, though. other than that, it was sitting. more sitting. cold. as i walked down the ramp to the field just before halftime, i described the cold to a band member. "it's colder than a witch's tit out here." my dad always says that. chris was walking just to the side of me. "what? did you just call her a tick?" i thought he said tit, though. "i said 'it's colder than a witch's tit' " even though i didn't really want to repeat it to him...i just wanted to clarify that i was not calling anyone a tit. "what?" i repeated it to him again. "oh...TIT, not TICK." he paused, laughed. "my dad always says that." more clarification. chris turned to one of the other pit percussionists. "dude, she said tit." great. and after halftime...more sitting, more cold, and we lost. i think that was the first game we lost this season. i insisted it was due to the fact that i was present. "i mean, kennewick never won a game that i played at last year." as we were waiting to loat the pit equipment onto the u-haul, chelsea told me what the plan for the next game was. "we are going to get the whole pit totally smashed. rosie is worried about being able to stand up but...it can be done. trust me." i miss high school marching band. ←/ b a c k w a r d / f o r w a r d /→ |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|