Okay, maybe 'fun' isn't the right word. My legs are still sore and my skin is still burnt redder than a lobster. Actually, it's not that bad, not as bad as Mike's. He actually has blisters, yes, you heard me, blisters, on his shoulders. He put on sunscreen too. Unfortunately, they don't make sunscreen strong enough for people like us. No sunscreen is made strong enough for long practices in the sun. I think the shiny (so far) instruments make it worse. They're like the reflectors valley girls used to tan, before they all got skin cancer.
Anyway, we started out by learning how to turn. Toe-heel-toe-heel. It actually seems pretty simple, simple enough to get your hopes up. Then they get everyone one in your section in a line, and they march, yes, march to mark off the distance between each freshman. Then they teach you how to march to the beat, and no matter how many times you try, you can't seem to get it right. Unless of course, your one of the lucky kids that went to the other middle school. There they at least teach you how to march in a parade. By the end of a hot-stinky-two-mile-long death march, you'd definitely know how to step on beat.
I'd whine more, but I have to get up bright and freakin' early for my second day of band camp. Someone please shoot me.
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