Muserology Cafe

Confessions of a Bando (July/August 2009)

by Alyssa Myerly, age 16, Ohio

I was terrified on my first day of band camp.

My school requires every student who wants to take concert band to be in the marching band as well. I had just seen the movie Drumline; this, coupled with horror stories I had heard about the band director, made me incredibly reluctant to set foot on that field.

I got to school promptly at 8:30 AM and set up my clarinet. Looking around, I recognized a few faces and saw a lot of new ones. Our director introduced himself. Then he herded all of us out onto the field to meet our section leaders—and there was no turning back.

Let me tell you something: band is not a walk in the park. Summer band camp is especially not a walk in the park—four hours every morning, marching outside in all weather (thunderstorm, freak cold snap, heat wave, rain, you name it), playing your instrument until your mouth aches. Band camp takes place almost every morning from the end of July until school starts. The freshmen learn how to march (left foot first), and everybody learns the routines and formations. In addition to the instrumentalists, our band has a kick line, flag twirlers, and baton twirlers. We learn the opening and closing numbers first; these remain constant for the whole season. Later, we learn a few songs to rotate in the middle. Then comes the moment of truth: the first football game.

We arrive at school early and dress in our uniforms. Oh, did I forget to mention the uniforms? Heavy jacket, pants with suspenders, black gloves, a hat with a plume, and, to top it all off, ugly black marching shoes called Dinkles. We board the buses and arrive at the stadium about 20 minutes later. It is really hot that evening. Up in the stands, our director lets us take off our heavy jackets. Water bottles are passed around. Then, suddenly, the drumline starts playing a beat—it's time to band dance! Band dancing takes place in the stands when there's nothing else to do. I mean, we certainly don't watch the game or anything like that. The drums start tapping out a rhythm, and the whole band gets to its feet and starts grooving along. Band dancing is one of the best parts of being a bando.

The football team is playing badly, and soon it's time to get ready for halftime. We descend the bleachers, receive our plumes from the parent volunteers, and stand nervously by the end zone. Or...maybe not. Someone has seen lightning, and the game is stopped. Both bands file into the school's gym and stand in the oppressive heat for a while. After some time, we board the buses and return home, after not playing at all.

The second game goes much better: the band takes the field and plays "Karn Evil 9," the theme from Rocky, and "Disco Inferno." Triumphant, we leave the field, basking in the glow of a job well done. Our band is very cocky, but with good reason. We are ranked one of the top bands in northeast Ohio. Our tradition is to make fun of the other band's performance after third quarter. The game concludes, after much band dancing and a very sorry showing from the football team.

The rest of the season progresses well. As it gets colder, we stop gulping water and start nursing cups of hot chocolate. We no longer take off our jackets, and we pass HotHands around and stuff them into the toes of our shoes during halftime. Soon it is almost time for the last home game of the season—Senior Night, a decidedly sad affair. The seniors are all in tears, everyone exchanges hugs, and we take the field for the last time. We execute the senior dance perfectly and exit the field, both sad and elated at the same time.

Concert season comes and goes, and seems very boring compared to marching season. Soon it's summer break, and before long it's July again. This year, I couldn't wait for band camp to begin.

Before I joined marching band, I really had no idea what it would be like. Your section is like your family. The clarinets and flutes hate the Trumpets, for no apparent reason. You never miss a game. If you're dying, you march. If you die on the field, we'll step over you. Band is much more than an instrumental group. It's a gaggle of talented, funny, unique individuals. The inside jokes, the stories about our director, and the shared experiences all draw the band close together. We see each other at our worst—sweating, sopping wet from rain, shivering; dressed in ugly uniforms and funny hats; trying not to bump into anybody or drop our instruments on the sometimes precarious stands.

I'm a sophomore now, and still can't wait for August when band camp starts again. This year, I might get to be a section leader. Band is pretty much indescribable unless you experience it yourself. But I think the basic mentality can be summed up in the advice we used to give the freshmen before halftime: play loud, stay in line, and don't stop marching till you die.