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.