That means we all put on our band uniforms, tried desperately to find a pair of shoes that fit, and stood on stage holding our instruments. (I'm a French Horn by the way.)
IT WAS MY LAST TIME WEARING MY MARCHING BAND UNIFORM. EVER.
I asked Mount Dawg (Mr. Mount, the band teacher, he's the coolest and we call him Mount Dawg) if I could buy my uniform if they ever bought new ones. He just looked at me and said, "Why?" The rest of my section echoed his sentiment. BUT I LOVE MY UNIFORM. So many memories. So many parades and football games. I had some great times in the uniform! Plus, the pants are super comfortable. (Mount Dawg called them 'trousers') AND THEY HAVE SUSPENDERS. The uniform also has many lovely pockets. I have hidden things such as cell phones, candy, reindeer antlers, deodorant, several pairs of earrings, and a LOT of lemon drops in those pockets. Quite roomy. I'm going to put my band shoes out at my graduation party with a little plaque that reads, "Here lie Nicole's marching band shoes. RIP the rest of her uniform. She loved it dearly." Or something along those lines.
I have so many marching band stories. So many. Some sad. Some funny. Some terrifying.
And here I will write my first band story:
Episode One of Nicole's High School Marching Band Career:
The summer after my Freshman year was my band trip. They do one every four years so every band student gets to go once. We went to Boston. AND SOMEHOW WE MANAGED TO GO ON THE HOTTEST WEEK BOSTON HAS HAD IN TEN YEARS. According to the news. It was at least 100 degrees (fahrenheit) EVERY DAY. And since we were tourists, we did a lot of sightseeing, OUTSIDE.
Then there was the parade. The band trip always involves a parade in whatever city we're in. They told us it was 2 miles. IT WAS ACTUALLY FOUR AND A HALF. SOMEONE CLOCKED IT. AND HALF OF IT WAS UPHILL. AND WE WERE IN FULL UNIFORM WITH OUR PANTS AND JACKETS AND GAUNTLETS AND HATS AND FREAKING PLUMES. I'm still in pain from the injustice of it all. Every other band was in shorts and t-shirts. And all of the people on the sides watching were like, "You're doing so good!" "You're almost done!" "Just a little bit further!" "You're almost ther-" NO WE WERE NOT ALMOST THERE. WE HAD THREE MILES TO GO. (But we must have looked like dying cattle because they were all very sympathetic and encouraging.) We had a couple of kids pass out from heat stroke and paramedics met us at the end.
(More on Boston later. It's full of stories.)
(Here is a photo of me in my band uniform looking sexy as all get out.)
(Seriously. Look at those shoes. And that jacket. And I promise that the suspender pants are super comfy.)