A/N: Wow, you're back? And here I was thinking that no one cared about my little story. Guess I was…wrong! ((Is shocked)) Guess there's a first time for everything…just kidding. Anyways, this chapter is dedicated to my friend Kirsten, who kept nagging and nagging and nagging me to update. Ya happy now, Bouma?! I'm updating, already!!
Read on for more marching band randomness!!
October 9th, 2004-Lincoln High Marching Contest
"At least I don't have to be out of here at the crack of dawn" I thought to myself as I hauled my butt out of bed around 10:00 a.m.
Today was the Lincoln High Contest, and Mr. Nielsen had worked out a really weird schedule for us to be at school around 1, then practice for awhile, change, then go over to Lincoln High, 'cause we didn't perform until 8:45 that night.
Eh…it's his prerogative. (A/N: I don't like Britney Spears…but the word fit.)
So I showed up at 12:45, like I was supposed to (the guard always was earlier than the rest of the band…make-up and hair, and all that jazz.), and had my hair done. Then we trooped down to the field (in our ugly black uniforms, I might add) so we could take a picture of the whole band. Then we walked back up to the school, changed into clothes so we could practice, and then we walked back down to the field so we could run through our show a few HUNDRED times.
I know what you're thinking, especially you, Bouma: "You're such a whiner, Krueger! WE had to walk up and down hauling our instruments!"
Yeah, well…you didn't have to haul a flag bag up and down…that thing weighed at least 20 pounds, and I'm not even kidding.
And, to be honest, that practice had so many stops and starts, it was a wonder we got anything done at all. There were even times when we could sit down (the guard, I mean), and those times are precious, all too few and far between.
FREE TIME IS SLACKER TIME!!! (A/N: This is my actual motto…embrace it! LOL)
Some of those times, like when Nielsen was bitching at a different section, and I was near my friends, we'd talk and goof around, until I got yelled at by my coach, or some other "adult" (note the quotation marks), and we'd stop for the moment. Don't get me wrong, marching band was probably one of the most fun experiences of my life, but it lacked…what's the word I want?…
Oh, yeah.
DISCIPLINE!
And I'm not blaming Mr. Nielsen (God knows, the man tries his hardest, and puts up with all of us remarkably well…this oughta make Mandie happy…LOL), but maybe…he didn't appoint some of the best section leaders.
But I digress…
Then we walked back up to the school (thankfully for the last time that day), and had picnics with our sections. Me, personally, the guard and me, that is, we had a pizza party, but I didn't eat much. I think I was a combo of nerves and stress, or maybe the sandwich I ate before I left…I don't know.
But that isn't the point.
We got into our uniforms, re-did our hair and make-up (we'd sweated most of it off), then got onto the same buses we'd ridden to Columbus in.
Which meant I was with…((shudder)) Dane!
Again!
Dane and I don't often see eye to eye, but we do agree on one thing: We can't stand George W. Bush. So, we often get into impassioned debates on what's being done to our country, and why couldn't he just resign, or something? (A/N: By the way, a bunch of Democrats and Independents wore dark clothes to school the day after the election, to symbolize mourning for our country. Just a random bit of related trivia. XD) But Mandie and Bouma, avid Bush supporters, often must interject their two cents, so these debates often turn into full-blown arguments, full of smacking the other side when you don't agree.
Once we got to Lincoln High, the band went off to find a practice space, and we went off to try a place that was lit enough to practice our work, so that we wouldn't kill ourselves or each other warming up.
It was quite amusing actually, we ended up in the parking lot under the Lincoln High lit-up sign, and even though she said no tossing, we did anyways. But you can't see a black pole hurtling down from space in the darkness, and since all but one of our poles were black…well, you get the picture.
It was here that I learned about the pre-competition rituals. Call them silly if you want, but they promoted team spirit, which we needed a lot of, in most people's eyes. We had two actually, the second being my favorite.
The first one went, with all of us in a circle, beating our poles on the ground:
"Foxy ladies always get some flags, flags!"
"Foxy ladies always get some flags, flags!"
"Foxy ladies always get some flags! FLAGS!"
Yeah…the second one's better. Kim led it, and it went:
"Can I get a Hoo! Rah?!"
"What?! What?!"
"Hoo! Rah!"
"Hoo! Rah!"
"Ooh! Ooh!"
Ahh…good times, good times. They were a great bunch, and I'll miss all the seniors(yes, even Sally and Tierra) once they've graduated and left.
Anyways…back to the competition.
One of the great things about being in guard is that you line up in front of the rest of the band, and then the dumb, I mean drum majors, then the rest of the band, so on, by section.
Well, either by the intervention of God, or by some stroke of dumb luck(or maybe that's just the way it's always been done), the mellophones were right after the drum majors, and I could kinda sorta communicate (through exaggerated mouth movements) with Mandie, who was standing in the front rank of people. And she was the first one (besides me) to hear about Ella.
Let me explain. Ella hadn't been feeling that great to begin with, and it sort of came to a head right before we were due to go on. (A/N: My foot is asleep…wow, that was weally, weally wandom…LOL…BOUMA!)
I was trying (key word trying) to talk to Mandie, but conversation was a bit stilted, since I couldn't actually move and go talk to her, but then I noticed Ella talking with Mr. Whitman over off to the side, and I was kinda worried. I tried to relay this to Mandie, who, by now, had noticed that Ella wasn't there, and wondered why. After about 10 minutes of trying to be heard, and her not reading my lips too well, I managed to get the general point across.
But then I had to forget about Ella for awhile and concentrate, because it was time to go on.
Remember in my Columbus story about Mr. Nielsen's whole, "Be the best, look like we're the best" thing with our noses?
Yeah…Mandie's nose wasn't on this planet anymore. It had entered the stratosphere. I'm not even kidding.
As opposed to me, I was twitching randomly from nerves and tiredness-I'm sure I looked like crap.
Anyways, I'll skip the show and just give you the highlights, but I'll elaborate on one number:
America.
BLEAH! BLEAH ON IT ALL!!!
I'll explain. We hadn't worked out all our work for the show, and we'd just gotten the work for America a few days before. And…suffice it to say…it wasn't very polished.
We sucked.
Nah, scratch that. We REALLY REALLY sucked.
Anyways, once we got off the field, our coach wasn't too pleased with us. She said it was one of the worst shows we'd ever done, but "Cool" was more polished than last week.
"Oh, goody" I thought. "Like telling a condemned man who'd going to be killed for robbery and murder that he's not guilty of the robbery, but they're still gonna kill him anyways."
You get the picture…I was ticked at her, but mostly I was ticked at myself. I mean, I know I could've done better, but I still gave it my best shot. (A/N: I almost typed shit…LOL XD!)
Anyways, we put our stuff back on the truck that would take it back to school, and then I went to go find my friends, who were precisely where I thought they would be: Clustered around Ella, demanding to know if she was all right.
"You're such a mother, Mandie" I laughed, coming up behind her and poking her in the side.
"Eeep!" she shrieked-she hadn't seen me coming. After realizing it was just me, she calmed down (If indeed Mandie is ever calm…LOL) and said, "I just wanted to see if she was all right!"
"I know, I know" I said, wandering over to where Ella and Kirsten were standing.
"How ya feeling, Miz Ella?" I asked, poking her very gently on the shoulder.
"Eh…I've felt better" she said, swatting my hand away. Then I asked her why she hadn't been on the field, and the baritones had had to march a hole.
"Mr. Whitman said if I felt really sick, he didn't want to risk me feeling worse, or collapsing on the field, or something like that. So he had me sit out."
"Oh."
"Yep yep."
About this time, we came to the entrance to Lincoln High's field (we'd had our hands stamped earlier so we didn't have to pay), and went in to watch Lincoln High, who were performing last. They also weren't being judged for any awards, I don't know why.
But me, I have a rather short attention span, so I wandered around looking at all the cool T-shirts and stuff that was for sale. I found a couple of shirts I liked, but as the 'rents had just shelled out $23 for my two school-sanctioned shirts; I couldn't convince my dad to buy one.
Poopie.
But, yeah, so…once they finished, we milled around for a little while, then they told us to go onto the field with our directors, because they were going to start handing out the awards.
Mr. Nielsen was not too happy.
But, yeah, so, anyways…we stood around on the field for awhile, and I wandered around talking to some people I know, then some random people in the other bands, who'd I never seen before in my life. You can strike up a conversation with anyone at these competitions, because once you're off the field, you're regular people again, you're just wearing different uniforms.
Anyways, they started with giving out the band awards (Ones, Twos, etc.), and I think everyone got a One, with the possible exception of Southeast, who may've gotten a Two, but I'm not sure. (Bouma? Accuracy?)
Anyways, we got a One, like we'd expected, and the guard got a One, and I think Southeast's guard got a Two.(Bouma?) And then came the special awards-Best Guard, Best Drumline, and Best Band.
Cue the theme music.
They handed out Best Guard first.
Cue the finger crossing, frantic prayers, and the 'Oh please, oh please, oh PLEASE!' from yours truly.
We didn't win.
Millard North did (we found out later, they only won by two points…more on that later), and everybody was disappointed-who likes to lose?
Then they handed out Best Drumline, and this was where I felt a pulse spike. Eric is on drumline, and if he won, he'd be happy, and probably in a good mood all week, which I always like to see. He has a great smile.
(sarcasm) I'm sure you have no idea why I love his smile…(shifty eyes)
"And the award for Best Drumline goes to…" (I swear, all announcers are theatre majors, or something…)
Cue the dramatic pause.
"Lincoln East!"
And now, cue the screaming, jumping up and down, whooping, hollering, clapping, cheering, and other loud forms of celebration, particularly from the snares. (Loonies, all of 'em.)
And to sum it all up…OK, truth time. I forgot who won Best Band, I think it Omaha Burke, but I have no clue. (Bouma?!)
Anyways, as we were walking back up the buses, I caught up and kept pace with Eric, and said "Congratulations."
"Thanks!" he said, looking rather pleased. He's a section leader, so I guess all the instruction with the basses has paid off.
"Good job" I said, trying to fill the not uncomfortable, but growing slightly stale, silence.
"Thanks" he said again, looking at me. "You too. You guys were good, from what I could see."
'Which ain't much, with that honkin' rig in front of you' I thought, but I kept my mouth shut.
"Hey, Crazy!" somebody yelled off to the side. (I think it was Shoe.)
You know, most people in marching band watch the drum majors to get their cues, and they follow the drill charts to find their spots.
Me?
I give myself musical cues, and if I can see the basses from where I'm standing, I'm doing all right, I probably need to take only a couple steps either right or left.
I'm also watching Eric, natch.
WHAT?!
Well, you would too. He's really cute.
But I really digress…
(Although I would love to know why the drumline nicknamed him 'Crazy McFunnyHat…I'll have to ask him. LOL!)
Anyways, back on the buses, Kirsten wasn't speaking to Mandie, because Mandie had licked her plume, and she was kind of pissed off. I sat behind the two of them, and Ella sat across from me, and we didn't talk all the way back to school.
Also, Anna Sterns came onto the bus crying (crying, for God's sake!), because we hadn't won.
Oh. My. God. Someone shoot me. Or, preferably her.
Anyways, we got back to school, I dropped off my bag, and I called my dad to get a ride home.
And as I stood out there waiting for him, I reflected on the day.
And I smiled inwardly.
'Yeah' I thought. 'Today was a good day.'
And even though we didn't win Best Guard, I had a feeling we'd clobber the competition at the LPS Invite.
Which was in a week.
Oy vay.
We. Need. To. PRACTICE!!!
END CHAPTER
Wow, I'm tired. And though I don't like to, I'm resorting to a mass shoutout:
SHOUTOUT TO EVERYBODY:
YOU GUYS ROCK MY SOCKS, AND I 3 YOU GUYS (Hope I did that right) SOOOOOO MUCH!! PLEASE REVIEW, SO YOU CAN HEAR ABOUT THE LPS INVITE!!
LOVE YOU GUYS!!
Quick note to Bouma:
There, are ya happy now?!
"And the band played on…"-Shake Ya Tailfeather