Today in band camp I met the returning band members. Some I recognized from middle school, but here they act different. Remember that suck-up oboe player who was awkward around everyone? Now she plays saxophone and is the star sophomore section leader. I've already heard rumors that she's in line to be drum major next year. Two years after that and she'll be on a full-ride at some prestigious university, majoring in music education. Gag me with a spoon!
Of course we never talk. I can't march backwards to save my life, let alone memorize a bunch of random coordinates on drill sheets. (What do I look like, a TomTom?) This sets me at the bottom of the totem pole. The only other people in band who get less respect are the other flute players in my section, and of course, the guys in color guard.
Nobody's real sure about the color guard guys. Most years, there's never more than two. Any guy who joins color guard instantaneously loses his man card. What straight guy would dance with purple flags with girly choreography in those gay costumes? At least, we all hope they're gay. It would just be...gag worthy on those practices in the hot sun, with girls more than comfortable cooling off in as little coverage as they're allowed.
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