|Marching Season 2012
Author: Tenuto07 PM
Let's see if I can survive the ultimate test: marching season as pit section leader. Rated T for band.Rated: Fiction T - English - Chapters: 18 - Words: 35,285 - Reviews: 23 - Favs: 7 - Follows: 7 - Updated: 10-13-12 - Published: 06-18-12 - id: 8229417
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
So we had a productive pit sectional today. Sam and I planned it so I can see her on her birthday and spend some time together before I go to the other side of the country.
Happy birthday, Sam! (Trackgirl18)
Last night I was talking to Jeremy. Apparently I don't make him crazy enough in my story than he really is in real life. (Yeah, craziest kid I've ever met… but I love him because he's part of my band family and my best friend. So if you end up reading this Jeremy… well, I don't know what to say.) So pretty much, keep in mind that he is 10x more crazier than I make it seem. Unfortunately, he's not in this chapter.
Okay… let's start before I forget. ~Tenuto07
Pit Sectional, 6/28
What do you know; it's at least 100 degrees on Sam's birthday! (With high humidity, don't forget that!) Sam came over to my house and loaded bass 2 and 3 into the car. We took 1 to the basement as I carried down Sam's bell set she's letting me borrow. "It feels so good down here!" Sam exclaimed as she walked down the stairs.
We practiced the Lions Daze music for a while. After a while, we got sick of playing the same thing over and over and over again. We head upstairs and make some puppy chow.
A good half-hour pasts and we load bass 1 into the car. Surprisingly, everything fits perfectly. We get in the car and drive to school.
Mr. W, being the slacker he is, isn't at school. (Although he did say he would be there from 9-2… and at the time it was 11) I emailed him, knowing that I wouldn't get a response.
The school's summer school program is still going on. There are at least 15 little kids running around with golf balls/clubs. When we unloaded the bass drums, all the little kids started playing with the harnesses. Eventually they left it alone after getting bored of them.
When summer school ended, Sam and I lugged the drums into the hallway. A kid appeared behind me. "You must be Jake," Sam said as I turned around.
"Yeah," Jake says. Not much later, Matt arrives.
"Hey, look its Oboe!" I say. (I'm too lazy to check if I already said this, but Oboe was the nickname I gave to him)
"Hi," Matt said as he stands at the edge of the hallway. A few moments later, Mr. W arrives.
"Mr. W!" You're here!
"Hey, guys! I left my keys in my other car. I'll be right back." Within a few minutes, he came back and opened the band room. I put on the harness for 1 and carried 1 into the band room. I set the puppy chow on a random chair and pull out a xylophone. Matt takes out the vibes and Mr. W puts Jake on timpani.
We made a lot of progress. The whole pit can play measures 1-17 with almost perfect dynamics. Soon, we start adding more measures. Mr. W tells Matt and me to work on our double stops. (I really hate double stops) "Emily, what do you play for this song?" Mr. W asks.
"Then why are you playing on a xylophone?" I only laugh and go to pull out the marimba.
Eventually, we get through 1-37, right when the drumline starts to play. Mr. W adds another few measures. He tells me to play through while he does some other important teacher stuff. He also instructs Sam to teach him timpani. "What am I supposed to teach him?" Sam asks him.
"Probably Eight on Hand; try that," Mr. W says and he walks to his office. When I see Sam's reaction to this, I burst out laughing. Matt and I hack away on the marimba and vibes. I work on my double stops. I can't seem to hit the G with my left hand. I keep trying and I don't get far.
"Sam, I am going to murder this G," I tell her. She laughs and says,
"Yeah, don't worry. I already did that for you." I forgot, whenever I taught her music during the year, she'd always get mad at the notes she couldn't play and declared them officially out of the alphabet.
I go back to my stupid double stops. We run through for a while, when Mr. W says we did a good job and it was a nice improvement. Mr. W comes back out. "You know, Emily, I really do hate to offend you with your height, but your wrists are leveled with the marimba. It makes it harder making good rolls. Let's find a stool or something for you." (Yeah, I'm like super short)
I really, absolutely want to do a face plant into this marimba right now.
I stood there, twirling my mallet in my right hand around. I drop it and say, "That would be ten-thousand push-ups from Mike, right there." Sam's in the back, laughing. I thought she was laughing at my joke when I turn around and Mr. W is walking back with a random red stool that takes up space in the back hallway.
"It's even red!" (One of our school colors) Mr. W exclaimed.
"Yay…" I say unenthusiastically. The pit laughs and Mr. W sets it on the ground. I jump on and find the marimba at least two feet from my waist.
"Okay, so that doesn't work. We'll find something," Mr. W says and walks away with the stool. Mr. W…. I say in my head and then start screaming in my mind.
"Well, then… Let's start working from 1-37," I say as I turn back to my marimba. I was fine last year, why are you doing this to me, Mr. W?
After a while I called for a break. "I want puppy chow, let's call it a break," I say and the pit starts to laugh with me. Since Sam and I made an oath to never eat in the band room ever again, I take the Tupperware That I left in my locker from the time Jeremy gave it back to me from Relay for Life and take it outside. I slide my left shoe off so the band room doors don't lock me out. Sam appears out of nowhere and wants to steal my shoe so I get locked out. "Sam, no!"
"I'm really thinking about it!" she says and walks away, leaving me outside but not locked out. I open both boxes and dump as much as I could into the other box. I steal about four pieces and head back inside. I'm only out here for like three minutes and I'm already super warm.
I stuff the box for Jeremy back in my locker. I promised him puppy chow, so when I left for vacation, he'd still have some. "Jeremy better be happy with me," I told Sam. "I went all the way outside to give this to him." Sam laughs. I look around. Matt and Jake are talking. Sam is pulling out 3 for practice. Mr. W is walking out of his office to us.
"Are you guys done?"
"No, we're just taking a break," I replied.
"Ok, you guys leave at 1:30, right?" Mr. W asks. I nod and I tell the pit to set up again. We play through a few more times and then Mr. W tells us to play through once more and we can leave.
When we get through the song once more, the pit and I pack up. Oboe put the vibraphone in first, making it harder for me to fit the marimba in. "Mr. W, where should I put this?"
"Where did you find it?" I point to him. "Well put it where you found it."
I'm still thinking of face planting into this marimba. "You're a percussionist; you should clean this area up."
"Maybe I might; if I get help from some people." I respond and put the marimba away. I take Jake's email down and Sam and I get back in the car to drive back to my house.
This year, I have a pit to be proud of.
So this chapter was just a filler. I have to hurry up and post this chapter for Sam. Have a good one! ~Tenuto07