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11.13.2001
ParadesAs much as I hate to admit that it has come again, it is parade season. I hate parades. I really do. I don't mind watching them, but being in them is past my level of comfort. Why?
Clarification? 1. They're either very hot or very cold. There was this one parade about two years ago. It was mid-November. It was 80 degrees (F) out there. We had people passing out. We have to wear these polyester outfits. That's hat, gloves, coat, bibbers and shoes. Polyester is either hot when it's hot outside or cold when it's cold. It was bad. Then there was this parade last year. See last year, we didn't have gloves. We didn't have gloves because people wouldn't shut up for long enough for our band director to get our sizes. So we were out there, getting ready to march the Earl parade. Yes, I know. Earl. It was about 30 degrees (F) and windy. I was hold a wet, metal instrument. It was bad. My fingers started swelling as soon as I got done with it. Why was my horn wet? Spit valve. 2. They're long. I understand that some Christmas parades can go as long as ten or fifteen miles. That would be the big city ones. Luckily, ours aren't that long. If they ever got that long, I think that I'd quit. The first parade that I ever had to go through, I thought that I was going to die. That was the really hot one. My arms were killing me. I play mellophone, which is sort of like a big trumpet. My back hurt. I had sweat running down my face. I couldn't breathe or move. That was my first parade. Later, I realized that that parade was the short one. It was only about a mile long. But give me a break, it was my first one. But the long one is the Earl parade. It's winds through the "town" for about 3 miles. I think Earl has a population of about three hundred, or so. We had to march through the woods. We had to march over railroad tracks. That's no fun, because you're not supposed to look down. We only passed about 4 churches, 6 houses and maybe about 20 people. It may have more, but it didn't look like it. 3. They're dangerous. And how could that be? Well, there was this girl that I knew. She played clarinet. She passed out in the middle of the parade and rolled into a ditch. What fun. We also have to watch out for horse. . . um, poop. That's no fun either. Last year there was a dead skunk in the middle of the road. The poor girl who stepped on it didn't see it in time, because she was right behind the drums. And then there are the various problems with the flags. It's not the flag girls' faults. IF you get too close to the flags, watch out. Especially camera guys. I've never actually seen this happen, but there have been people knocked out cold because of the flags. 4. They're not just tiring, they're exhausting. When I get done with a parade, I just want to sink down onto the ground and die. I'm especially glad that I don't play percussion or tuba. Those things are just too heavy to have to haul around for an hour or more at a time. Mellophone, like I said, is like a big trumpet. It's bigger, it's heavier. It's what french horns normally march with. It weighs perhaps 5 lbs. That's less that baritones or tenor saxes (although they have a strap). But the point is, it's heavier than a trumpet. And of course we all think it's funny when most of the trumpets are male, and they can't even hold their trumpets parallel to the ground all the time. I'm a girl (less upper body strength you know). I have a bigger instrument, but yet I manage to hold it up parallel to the ground all the time. That takes a bit out of me. Then you have to deal with the marching. Rolling your heels and toes and all of that. If you march too heavily, your lips move too much and it's hard to play. So, why am I in Marching Band? After two and a half years of this, I sort of wonder that myself. I decided that I definitely like Concert Band better. Most people consider Marching Band to be more fun, but I've always like Concert Band. Our first parade is this Sunday. The next one is the 25th of November. And the one after that is the 2nd of December. That's the Earl one. Yay. Bleah.
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