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Band camp, to my knowledge, was the one time that Melanie behaved herself. I personally got off to a rough start as a leader. I had as freshmen two trombones and one baritone – I had sent the tenor and bari over to the saxophones to learn parade rest and horns up with their instruments, since, quite frankly, I had no clue how to hold a saxophone. While the flute section leaders were having tons of trouble remembering all of their freshmen's names, I could count mine on one hand. My freshmen behaved fine – on of the trombones had a bit of trouble figuring out haces, partially due to the huge shoes he was wearing. The trouble began when the returning members came the next week. One of the trombone players, whom we'll call Iguana (for his obscenely long middle toes), was going to try out for section leader last year, but decided that he didn't have the commitment it would take. I was a bit mad at him for this – low brass is a fairly large section and was notoriously the most difficult in our band to deal with – but decided to let it go.
The first thing we did in sections at band camp was get together and talk a bit, just a little thing about ourselves, so that everybody knew everybody. We circled up on the 40 and I started.
"Hi guys, I'm Kanoi, I'm the section leader, I play baritone and I'm a sophomore."
"Iguana, trombone, sophomore. Disco Inferno!" He had wanted to do a Disco Inferno show ever since he started marching band.
"Mikey, trombone, junior." Mikey had marched alto sax last year but switched, thank god, because we needed her.
"Jonny, trombone, junior." Jonny I had a problem with. He had a crappy attitude and was a total pothead. He had called last year's section leader a bitch to her face on the field, and while I am not bothered by this kind of stuff, she had burst out into tears. That was the one time I was proud of him, because the previous section leader actually was a bitch. He had little to no respect for authority and had a less-than-half assed attitude about band itself. He was constantly complaining about it, and when we asked him why he didn't just quit, he said because then he couldn't goof off with friends. Trying to tell him that band is not for goofing off is hopeless. Hopefully Jonny wouldn't be a problem this year.
Kirk and Becca were the new sophomore trombones, both of them knew Iguana from their middle school.
The new freshman baritone was a girl named Nikki.
"Steve, but everyone calls me Stoner. Sophomore, tenor sax."
"I'm Fred. I like Circle K and I play tenor." Fred looks like a monkey. I don't mean to be mean here, but he actually does look like a monkey. And he wears this red baseball cap with a torn Circle K patch on it.
"My name's Sam. I play bari sax. And I'm a frosh."
"Luke, tuba, sophomore." Luke was a lot like Johnny, but actually did as I asked on occasion. They were alike in the druggy sense.
"I'm Edward. I'm Kanoi's demon spawn sex monkey."
"Ed! Dude, let's not scare the froshes quite yet, okay?!"
"Sorry, Kanoi."
"That's okay. Tell them what you play." I wasn't concerned about clearing the record about me and Edward because I knew that the rest of the section would soon figure out his sexual orientation didn't quite mold with mine. Or rather, it did. A bit too well. We both liked the dick.
"Well, I'm a sophomore, and, duh, I play tuba." He gestured to the huge piece of metal wrapped around his shoulders.
"Great! Okay, guys, one of the low brass traditions is the spit circle, so get in close." We all squeezed together in a somewhat circular shape. "Now, on the count of three, we all spit in the middle, okay? One, two, three."
I'm still convinced that more spit landed on shoes than in the middle of the circle.
Coming up next chapter: The Whooping Stick and Sectionals with Melanie.
Band camp, to my knowledge, was the one time that Melanie behaved herself. I personally got off to a rough start as a leader. I had as freshmen two trombones and one baritone – I had sent the tenor and bari over to the saxophones to learn parade rest and horns up with their instruments, since, quite frankly, I had no clue how to hold a saxophone. While the flute section leaders were having tons of trouble remembering all of their freshmen's names, I could count mine on one hand. My freshmen behaved fine – on of the trombones had a bit of trouble figuring out haces, partially due to the huge shoes he was wearing. The trouble began when the returning members came the next week. One of the trombone players, whom we'll call Iguana (for his obscenely long middle toes), was going to try out for section leader last year, but decided that he didn't have the commitment it would take. I was a bit mad at him for this – low brass is a fairly large section and was notoriously the most difficult in our band to deal with – but decided to let it go.
The first thing we did in sections at band camp was get together and talk a bit, just a little thing about ourselves, so that everybody knew everybody. We circled up on the 40 and I started.
"Hi guys, I'm Kanoi, I'm the section leader, I play baritone and I'm a sophomore."
"Iguana, trombone, sophomore. Disco Inferno!" He had wanted to do a Disco Inferno show ever since he started marching band.
"Mikey, trombone, junior." Mikey had marched alto sax last year but switched, thank god, because we needed her.
"Jonny, trombone, junior." Jonny I had a problem with. He had a crappy attitude and was a total pothead. He had called last year's section leader a bitch to her face on the field, and while I am not bothered by this kind of stuff, she had burst out into tears. That was the one time I was proud of him, because the previous section leader actually was a bitch. He had little to no respect for authority and had a less-than-half assed attitude about band itself. He was constantly complaining about it, and when we asked him why he didn't just quit, he said because then he couldn't goof off with friends. Trying to tell him that band is not for goofing off is hopeless. Hopefully Jonny wouldn't be a problem this year.
Kirk and Becca were the new sophomore trombones, both of them knew Iguana from their middle school.
The new freshman baritone was a girl named Nikki.
"Steve, but everyone calls me Stoner. Sophomore, tenor sax."
"I'm Fred. I like Circle K and I play tenor." Fred looks like a monkey. I don't mean to be mean here, but he actually does look like a monkey. And he wears this red baseball cap with a torn Circle K patch on it.
"My name's Sam. I play bari sax. And I'm a frosh."
"Luke, tuba, sophomore." Luke was a lot like Johnny, but actually did as I asked on occasion. They were alike in the druggy sense.
"I'm Edward. I'm Kanoi's demon spawn sex monkey."
"Ed! Dude, let's not scare the froshes quite yet, okay?!"
"Sorry, Kanoi."
"That's okay. Tell them what you play." I wasn't concerned about clearing the record about me and Edward because I knew that the rest of the section would soon figure out his sexual orientation didn't quite mold with mine. Or rather, it did. A bit too well. We both liked the dick.
"Well, I'm a sophomore, and, duh, I play tuba." He gestured to the huge piece of metal wrapped around his shoulders.
"Great! Okay, guys, one of the low brass traditions is the spit circle, so get in close." We all squeezed together in a somewhat circular shape. "Now, on the count of three, we all spit in the middle, okay? One, two, three."
I'm still convinced that more spit landed on shoes than in the middle of the circle.
Coming up next chapter: The Whooping Stick and Sectionals with Melanie.
