Let's try this one more time, with feeling...

Since November, I've been making a big deal (at least in my own head) about my last band 'moment'. First it was my last regular season practice, but then we had a practice on the bowl trip, so that didn't really count. Then we had the last game in Sanford Stadium, but that was pretty unceremonious because it was 40 degrees and raining, so my main objective wasn't to hang out and reminisce, but to get warm and dry as soon as possible. Then I had my last football game, which was a little more nostalgic and had a little more fanfare, but still wasn't the end of the road because basketball season was just starting. Then there was the last game in Stegman, but that was no big deal because Tournament Season was starting. Then Tournament Season started, I went to Dallas and figured that was going to be it. It was a nice way to end it, I thought. So I felt pretty good about going out like that. But then I got a voicemail from one of my friends in the other traveling band that went something like this:

'Hey Charles, it's Floyd. I was excited to see our victory over Texas, and as you know that means I'm supposed to go to Chatanooga. However, as you might also know, that's Easter weekend, so I really need to go home. You're a great Jewish friend, so I figured you wouldn't really be doing a whole lot, so I was wondering if you could sub for me.'

It actually made me laugh. Not in a bad way -- I was just trying to imagine the reasoning that led to that phone call. 'Hmm...it's Easter next weekend, and I need a sub -- someone that doesn't celebrate Easter -- a Muslim, Jew, or Atheist -- there aren't any Muslims or Atheists in the mellophone section -- a Jew -- Charles!'

Anyway, so I said I'd do it, just to squeeze out one more band trip. There were other reasons, but I'm not going to tell you what they are, so let's just pretend I just wanted one more trip. So we went up to Chattanooga last night. The hotel was awesome. I got my own bed, and it was the best bed I've ever slept on. I tried to bring it home, but it was heavy so I gave up on it after about 3 seconds.

The trip was short because we lost. It was kinda disappointing because it really had potential to be a fantastic trip. But such is life.

At any rate, I have a feeling this is really it for me as far as band goes. I can't think of anything else I could possibly need my mellohpone for in the foreseeable future, and I'm not going to have to be at any sporting events, well, ever again if I choose not to.

It hasn't really sunk in yet, and it probably won't for a while. Actually, it probably won't sink in until I go to a game next season and actually have to pay to get in, and don't get to sit with the band.

It's a pretty surreal feeling. I mean, I've been in band for the past 12 years of my life. It's been my primary means of socialization since I was like 9. Every friend that I have now is either in band or a friend I met through someone in band. And now to think that that's over is a little unnerving. I've never been much good at making friends, and band gave me a pretty efficient vessel through which to do it. I actually just now feel like I was coming out of my shell and letting people really get to know me. It's a little frustrating and feels almost unfinished or unresolved. Like ending a song on a diminished 7th chord. Anyone not in band or involved with music isn't going to get that analogy.

Which brings me to my next point. People who have never been in band just don't understand.

If I have this conversation one more time:
'You're in band?'
'Yeah.'
'Huh huh huh. So you go to band camp? Huh huh huh. This one time, at band camp, huh huh huh.'

I'm going to kill that person with their own shoe and eat their children. That was funny for about 3 seconds 5 years ago, and has gotten exponetially less funny ever since. Let it go. It's over.

There is no social experience that compares with marching band. I mean really...what other scenario is there where you can walk into a room and automatically have something in common with 400 people? Especially when those 400 people are the only ones you know that understand your passion, hardwork, and reasoning (or lack there of) behind what it is you do. And when you spend 12 hours of practice every week, all day every Saturday during the fall, a week in the summer, and a week in the winter with these people, you form a kind of bond that is truly foreign to those who have not themselves experienced it.

Tonight at dinner, we were talking about how, as musicians, we actually feel some sort of barrier between the members of our family that aren't musically inclined. Brett made a good point that it's hard to relate to people when they genuinely don't understand what you're talking about or why it's important to you.

For me, the barrier extends beyond my family to pretty much everyone I meet. Much like I'm sure people think I'm weird for getting goosebumps when I hear certain songs, or that I'd rather spend Friday night with a piano in my living room than with a beer in a bar; I think people are weird for not understanding why I do that. Though a beer in my living room is rather appealing. Anyway.

I guess what I'm getting at is that I've spent more than the last decade of my life in a 'society' of people that at least understood where I was coming from, and where I felt like I could always go to get a sense of belonging. And the prospect of having to leave that place and enter the 'real world' where most people don't 'get' music isn't all too appealing. Especially at 4 in the morning when you're AC is broken.