Hiya! I know it's been ages since I last updated...I've been soooooooooo *3
hours later* oooooooo busy. I had some free time this evening, and thought
'Hmm. I haven't updated my band geek story in like...forever. Why don't I do
that?' So, here it is. The final chapter in a band geek saga like no
other....MARCHING SEASON!!! *weak applause*
Ahh...spring. The flowers begin to bloom, the trees begin to regain their leaves, and the bees buzz merrily in their hives. At HBHS, however, spring means only one thing: Marching Season. The whistle echoes through the student parking lot as the drum major calls off a mark time. TWEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEET TWEET! TWEET! TWEET! TWEET! TWEET! The drum cadence takes off at a relatively normal pace, and with the forward command (TWEEEEEEEEEEEEET TWEET!), the band begins its now daily march around the parking lot. I, with my trumpet held at attention, keep my eyes forward, head up, and my upper body still. It will be a good day.
We march around the parking lot once, turning through the various rows of student cars. Oops! There goes a car alarm. Stupid things, car alarms. At least as far as marching is concerned. However, it is pretty funny when the drum majors purposely take you down a row in which you know a car alarm will end up going off. That is, pretty funny to us. To security...not so much.
I look out the corner of my eye to see if my line has managed to figure out how to guide. Nope. Still completely off. If only zig zags were popular in parades, then I wouldn't have to complain.
Ooh! Drum major's calling off a song! Which one, which....NOOOOOOOO!!!!! Not Stars and Stripes!!!! GAAAAAH!!!!! Even El Tigre is better than Stars and Stripes, and that's not saying much. Sousa ought to be shot, I'm telling ya. Oh well...thank god we don't have to take the repeats.
So we play Stars and Stripes. My horn snaps down on one, the rest of the section's horns snap down on.....one and a half?!?!? Now wait a second....there's something wrong here. Oh well, I can bug them about it later. Time to call off a carry. Trumpets to a carry, 2, 3, 4! My trumpet is down at my side by four. Gilberto's trumpet is down by four. No one else's is. Great...looks like it's going to be marching drills for the next several weeks. Hope the trumpet section likes eights and eights*, cause they're going to be doing them for a while. From the looks of it, horn angles are going to have to be stressed as well. But hey, that's why the God of Marching Band invented pushups.
We march around the lot a few more times, and then stop in front of the band room. TWEEEEEET TWEET! TWEEEEEET TWEET! TWEET! TWEET! TWEET! We come to a halt. RIGHT HACE! We all turn to face the drum majors and director, who then talk about how good of a job we're doing, yadda yadda yadda. Then we're dismissed. We all walk back to the band room, and begin putting our instruments away. DING DONG DING DONG! AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!!! I'M LATE!!!!!!!!
So, how was that? Not the best, I know. And I really need to update the list of band members...but I think I will later. Review, and perhaps I shall soon grace you with another band fic!
Ahh...spring. The flowers begin to bloom, the trees begin to regain their leaves, and the bees buzz merrily in their hives. At HBHS, however, spring means only one thing: Marching Season. The whistle echoes through the student parking lot as the drum major calls off a mark time. TWEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEET TWEET! TWEET! TWEET! TWEET! TWEET! The drum cadence takes off at a relatively normal pace, and with the forward command (TWEEEEEEEEEEEEET TWEET!), the band begins its now daily march around the parking lot. I, with my trumpet held at attention, keep my eyes forward, head up, and my upper body still. It will be a good day.
We march around the parking lot once, turning through the various rows of student cars. Oops! There goes a car alarm. Stupid things, car alarms. At least as far as marching is concerned. However, it is pretty funny when the drum majors purposely take you down a row in which you know a car alarm will end up going off. That is, pretty funny to us. To security...not so much.
I look out the corner of my eye to see if my line has managed to figure out how to guide. Nope. Still completely off. If only zig zags were popular in parades, then I wouldn't have to complain.
Ooh! Drum major's calling off a song! Which one, which....NOOOOOOOO!!!!! Not Stars and Stripes!!!! GAAAAAH!!!!! Even El Tigre is better than Stars and Stripes, and that's not saying much. Sousa ought to be shot, I'm telling ya. Oh well...thank god we don't have to take the repeats.
So we play Stars and Stripes. My horn snaps down on one, the rest of the section's horns snap down on.....one and a half?!?!? Now wait a second....there's something wrong here. Oh well, I can bug them about it later. Time to call off a carry. Trumpets to a carry, 2, 3, 4! My trumpet is down at my side by four. Gilberto's trumpet is down by four. No one else's is. Great...looks like it's going to be marching drills for the next several weeks. Hope the trumpet section likes eights and eights*, cause they're going to be doing them for a while. From the looks of it, horn angles are going to have to be stressed as well. But hey, that's why the God of Marching Band invented pushups.
We march around the lot a few more times, and then stop in front of the band room. TWEEEEEET TWEET! TWEEEEEET TWEET! TWEET! TWEET! TWEET! We come to a halt. RIGHT HACE! We all turn to face the drum majors and director, who then talk about how good of a job we're doing, yadda yadda yadda. Then we're dismissed. We all walk back to the band room, and begin putting our instruments away. DING DONG DING DONG! AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!!! I'M LATE!!!!!!!!
So, how was that? Not the best, I know. And I really need to update the list of band members...but I think I will later. Review, and perhaps I shall soon grace you with another band fic!
