It took about half an hour to pass out ponchos. You can't really do anything with our band unless you can see all of them at once- and unless you're onfield or have x-ray vision, that's hard to manage. When we march, we look serious and focused, and we are; but as soon as we're done we're as hyper and insane as the most lightheaded middle-schoolers. So passing out the ponchos involved poking others with the instrument some naïve person had asked you to hold, or seeing if you could play your flute under the poncho, or fighting over the un-ripped ponchos that a lucky few had received… in other words, chaos.

          The band directors didn't really help either- each had their own idea of what to do next, and each expressed that idea to the band. When half of the band was trickling back onfield, and half was forming into a block in the parking lot, the rain stopped and the sun came out. As the block grew longer, incorporating cars and an offending end of a school bus, the sun grew warmer and warmer and the ponchos grew heavier and heavier. As we finally made our way to the field, where we apparently were supposed to go at once, it looked like it had never rained. Sure, there were heavy gray clouds in the sky, but they looked so far off and unimportant we didn't pay attention. Right now, we were supposed to rehearse.

          We played through the music, first, and figured out that the freshman half of the band was still faking the harder parts. For some reason, 50% success didn't please the band teacher although it sounded decent, so we broke into sectionals. The flute section leaders went over the music, reminded the two male freshmen that the marching tap is on the left foot even when nobody is calling out "left, left, left" and to spite the drumline that had chosen to practice closest to us, practiced the screaming in Part 3. Contented that a bunch of guys with heavy instruments of mass destruction were probably angry with us, the band got set for our Final Run-throughs.

          It was weird, knowing this was the last time I could ever afford to mess up. As Part 1 dragged on, I thought how I'd have to perfect my backmarching here and there before 7pm. As we gave the Backmarching Drumline a wide berth, I thought about how we'd have to do that again in the evening, since the field was probably going to be as mushy as the practice one. Those evil weathermen… laying irrational blame calmed me somewhat and I finished the show without worrying myself to death.

          Some other school was waiting to use our practice field… having an audience was exhilarating. I love having someone to show off to, and after two and a half months we really had something to show off. Wet guard members were pushing around our Marble Blocks of Wood, while the drenched flags were refusing to twirl properly. Our soloists were playing everything down an octave so as not to kill their chops; at least three people fell down in the mud during the 2-to-5 4-person do-sa-do at 180bpm, and our diagonals in part 3 were as wobbly as the mud beneath them. 2 and a half months, eh? Blame the rain.

          We felt especially bad later, as we watched Leigh's guard perform insanely perfect flag spins with their Hershey's Kisses flags. Right, they get the silver and black ones while we make do with green and blue… and our guard wasn't half as together as theirs was, although it had improved a lot. (I later looked up Lee's practice schedule- I have no idea how they made time for homework.)

Gah… I must now make time for MY hw. Stupid teachers, give us stuff to do on weekends. Stupid me, volunteering at CMEA all day Saturday…yay for human stupidity!