Disney Trip Part 2: "Everybody's Got a Laughing Place"

It was the second day of our trip. We got to the Magic Kingdom and were given a time and place to meet up and set free. I took off with my friends and we ran into the Magic Kingdom, wondering where to go first. After lunch, we met up with one of my friend's parents, who was a band mom, and waited in line for Splash Mountain. We waited in line for about a half an hour and were excited to get on the flume ride. We got to the beginning of the ascend to the final drop when the flume broke down. We sat there, catching up with the band moms and chatting and laughing, happy to be spending our February vacation in Disney Land.

A half an hour passed and we began to be restless. "Everybody's Got a Laughing Place" kept playing in the background and we began to sing along to pass the time, interrupted every verse or two by the animatronic vultures saying, "laughing place? I'll show you a laughing place." Then they'd cackle and the song would resume. We began to mimic the vultures as the minutes passed.

It was an hour since the ride had stopped and "Everybody's Got a Laughing Place" was get awfully annoying. Some of us we getting frustrated, others were trying to keep spirits up. I was bursting into fits of giggles, seemingly going mad with the sound of the friggin' song in my ears. The maintenance guys kept walking past and saw the deterioration of our sanity as the song kept playing and playing. Suddenly the sound stopped. One of the maintenance guys walked passed and gave us the thumbs up. "There you go guys!" I almost got out of my log and hugged him.

It turns out that the mind sucks. I could not get "Everybody's Got a Laughing Place" out of my head and occasionally our whole log would erupt into song, singing the song that would surely kill me.

After an hour and a half of being stuck on Splash Mountain, the log jerked and began ascending the giant drop. We cheered and braced ourselves for the rest of the ride. The log jerked and jerked and stopped. Halfway up the ascent. The friggin' thing was stuck again. We groaned and laughed to keep from crying. Thankfully it was fixed in about 5 minutes and we finished the ride..."Everybody's Got a Laughing Place" was stuck in our heads for the rest of the day.

Disney Trip Part 1: Universal Car Sickness and Sleeplessness

We had been waiting the entire year to go on the Disney trip. Everyone was half-asleep, but excited as we packed our stuff in the coach bus at 4:30 in the morning. Yes, we were driving down to Florida. From the middle of New England. A 24-hour drive. The usual mixture of soul and Disney music filled the bus as the band and color guard chatted away and screamed, too excited to sleep. As we left the state, a girl drew its picture, accompanied by its name and taped it to the window. "Florida or bust!" she said.

Those pictures became our map. As more and more pictures went up on the window, we knew we were getting closer to Disney World. But it seemed as if the pictures took longer and longer to put up. The music died down as we tried to settle down and get some sleep. But it's hard when the seats are only so big and you're all crammed into the bus. It was a very sleepless few hours. One drummer, frustrated with his body's inability to fall asleep, said almost hysterically, "Well, if I can't sleep, I might as well start stuffing my face with Cheeze-Its!" And he did. We stopped often for bathroom breaks. I would always get up to stretch my legs, but my friend sitting next to me wouldn't. He was a lucky one. He could sleep...sort of. Whenever I got back, he was sprawled out over both seats, sleeping. After about 3 times of this, I began to hit him whenever I got back.

In the middle of the drive, we switched bus drivers. The new one didn't know how to drive. He would step on the gas, then the brake, then the gas again, resulting in a jerking, lurching motion. Soon half the bus was car sick, including me. The band parents didn't really know what to do with so many in the same situation. I hoped to God that it would only get better from there.

A Very Blustery Day

It was the day of our competition. We loaded the equipment up onto the coach buses and warmed up all the way down there, listening to a mixture of soul and Disney music. As we pulled into the the MICCA competition parking lot, the section leader put on the Blue Man Group soundtrack, and we got pumped as we changed into our uniforms. When we got out of the bus, we were blown back by a gust of wind. It was very strong and very cold. We looked at each other and unloaded the drums.

We warmed up again, trying to keep our hands warm and lose in the cold and windy weather. The drum major called us altogether for a huddle and we got energized and lined up to march into the stadium. Our section leader took us aside and we engaged in the usual "Mission Impossible" singing that bonded us together and got us focused.

We marched out onto the field, bracing ourselves against the wind. I was not having fun. Having a large bass drum protruding from your body is as good as attaching a sail to it. Because of my small stature, it was even harder to keep my balance. I looked over towards the rest of the bass line, whose panicked and grimaced faces told me that they were also struggling. The plumes on our hats didn't help either. The band was swaying in the wind, like trees. We must have looked so funny...especially the base line. We were battling the wind and ourselves, trying make ourselves stay still and face to the side. It was hard.

After the performance, we put our drums away and froze on the stands, waiting for the results. We got 2 stars overall, making us a below average band. The drumline got 3 stars, which made us average in the eyes of the judges. We were happy that we outscored the rest of the band (it inflated our egos), but wanted to be above average. For being blown about in the wind like a couple of leaves shed from a tree, I think the line did pretty damn good...

The Girls' Game

It was that time of year when the girls got the opportunity to strut their stuff and play the watered down version of football: powderpuff. Every year, the members of the marching band got together to form a pep band for the girls. Four members of the line showed up: me, another bass drummer, the quad player, and another bass player who decided he was going to play the snare for the night.

I walked into the auditorium hearing the sound of drills. "Look, I made a super drum!" one of the bass drummers said, pointing with pride at the two bass drums he had zip-tied together. "I call it 'The Snowman.'"

"Good luck carrying it," I said.

"Eh, it shouldn't be that bad," he said, putting it on and almost toppling over. I looked towards the quad player, and the sound of the drill. Instead of zip-tying extra drums to the quads, he was drilling into the shell and screwing new ones in, permanently destroying the other set of quads that we may have needed for the following year. "He's gonna be pissed, man," I said to the quad player. I knew the section leader and the band director would be appalled to see what had happened to the spare set of quads. "No, the section leader will think it's sweet!" he said. "And who cares about the director?" I shook my head and got my drum out of it's case, preparing to harness up and go.

That night we played with the most unbalanced band I had ever heard. We had 4 drummers, an alto sax, a trombone, and a trumpet. We sounded awful, but we were having fun.

The line was dressed in our 'kick ass' uniform: black adidas sweatpants, a white tee, and a black adidas zip up. It was a particularly warm night and so we had taken off the zip up. Suddenly, the skies opened up and we were drenched within seconds. The powderpuff game turned into a mud bath. My shirt turned transparent. We rushed to get our instruments inside, knowing that they would be ruined by the heavy rain. Once inside, I put on my soggy drumline jacket, pulling my arms through sleeves saturated in water. Seconds later, the girls cam in all muddy and wet, and the crowd followed them. We pt away our instruments, and I left, watching the quad player try to find a space that would fit his monstrous creation.

Homecoming Parade

It was the biggest game of the year, besides Thanksgiving. Even though the game was at 7, the marching band was at the school at 4, perfecting the music and getting ready for the parade. The drumline was goofing off. They had found a Frisbee that lit up when it was thrown and were playing in the pitch black auditorium where we practiced. Oftentimes the Frisbee would be thrown into the seating area instead of the aisles and either the boys would dive into the chairs and get tangled in them, or they would chase the Frisbee down the sloped auditorium. I sat on the edge of the stage, watching this comic act and warming up on my forearms. The director walked into the auditorium to see what we were up to, and the all-to-often heard "DRUMMERS!!" echoed through the place. The lights were quickly turned on and the boys walked up towards the stage, one chasing the Frisbee down through the seats. We practiced for a little while, the cadence mostly, and got into our uniform.

We joined the band assembled outside and marched single file to the start of the parade. While other sections talked and laughed together, the drumline was busy tuning our equipment and warming up. When the uniform went on, the line was all business.

We watched the floats get in line behind us. We were the front of the parade. We got in formation and the drum major counted us off. The snare line kept the beat of our footsteps as the drum major shouted, "Forward, march!" As soon as we stepped off, the police escort in front of us turned on their sirens as did the fire trucks directly behind us. It was so loud! I could barely hear the drum next to me. The section leader, seeing the band start to march off time, and seeing his line struggle to hear his beat, started playing even louder. The drum major came gliding through the band on a scooter. "They're kinda loud, huh?" he yelled towards us, gesturing towards the fire trucks.

Finally, we made it to the field. As we walked around the track around the outside of the field, the fire trucks and police cars veered off and made for the station. We marched around the track...5 times. By the end, my ears were ringing from the sirens, my hands were killing me from the intensity of the cadence, and my back hurt from trying to support a drum that was practically as big as me. But the spirit of the band and the crowd pushes you on.

Playing With the Girls

It was almost time for homecoming and we were busy getting ready for the biggest game of the year, besides Thanksgiving. While the band was polishing up the songs in the show, we were putting in extra hours with the dance team. The dance team captain had found a Beyonce song that had a drumline playing in the background, and she wanted us to play the part with them as they danced. We practiced with them a few unsuccessful times in the gym, but the drums echoed off of the concrete walls and metal ceiling, making it impossible for the girls to stay in time and hear the music.

We moved rehearsals outside on to the football field so that the girls could get the feel of dancing on grass instead of linoleum, and so that our drums wouldn't echo as bad. We soon found that our echoing drums may not have been the problem. The dance team was new to the school and contained various levels of dancers. Many of the girls could not stay on time to save their lives. It was frustrating for the line to play with the girls being so off tempo and frustrating for the captain who wanted to do more with the dance, but was stuck teaching the girls how to stay on beat.

As the dancers rehearsed over and over again, the drumline tried to come up with our choreography. " I think that we should each have a chance to dance to dance with a girl," the tenor player said.

"Oh and how're you going to do that with your drum on? And what am I supposed to do?" I asked.

"Shit. I forgot"

"OK, we need to come up with something where she doesn't look gay," the section leader said. "There goes all my ideas."

We ended up doing simple marching movements, but it looked pretty good with the girls all around us, finally able to sort of dance in time. We were satisfied with it and joined up with the band and the baton twirlers to rehearse music for homecoming, and watch the twirlers spin fire.