True Confessions of a Band Geek

Oh, marching band. It’s something nobody quite understands—except band geeks. Band geeks like me. One may ask, “Why are band people so different than the rest of the population?” Well, marching around in ninety degree weather while playing a saxophone as loud as you can have… side effects.

Band camp: the highlight of every band geek’s summer, right? (Insert sarcasm.) Two weeks before school starts, for at least eight hours a day, I have a full-time job. This job is to be outside in the skin-melting sun (although one time there was hail) with a tenor saxophone hanging from my neck and be yelled at for not pointing my toes up high enough when I march. I’m sorry; some of us don’t bend that way. Some of us can’t memorize a page full of sixteenth-notes in five minutes. Some of us are on the verge of heat stroke! Maybe if I vomit, I could drink it and be hydrated, since water breaks tend to be few and far between. Band camp is made of sweat, blood, and tears. And sunburn. And yet somehow, I still seem to get at least a fleck of enjoyment out of this time.

The main part of band is, of course, the music. Music is art you listen to, poems you can hear, and feelings that speak. It’s a beautiful thing. When we’re on the football field at halftime performing our show, something magical happens. Our hearts are pounding with nerves, but our souls are pounding with music. Somehow, we cease to be individual people; instead, we are one body, moving through the music like a deer moves through a forest. Our shared consciousness is only aware of three things: the music, the audience, and each other. For a moment that seems to stretch for a thousand years, everything is simply perfect. That’s the power of music. That’s the power of band.

What about the people making that music? Yeah, they’re pretty freaking awesome. Just take a look around the band room; you’ll find boys with green mohawks, girls that think they’re kitty cats, young men that look like bodybuilders but act like teddy bears, and young women who look like Gene Simmons. Does band make people weird, or do weird people join band? Nobody really knows; perhaps a little bit of both. Walk into the band room, and it’s only a matter of time before you get randomly hugged or sexually harassed (in a funny way, of course). Which reminds me: the jokes! The inside jokes of marching band! If you were in my group of band friends, the phrases “party in my pants”, “not Dylan”, “bring confetti”, and “my taco exploded” would send you to the ground with laughter. Oh, the good times we’ve had singing, nomming (yes, “nom,” as in the sound the Cookie Monster makes when he eats.) poking, and dancing. Some argue that band people are the best kind of people. (Note: these are NOT the same people that say Amish electricians are the best kind of electricians.) I would have to agree with these people. I may be a little biased, though, considering how I am a band geek.

This has been a snippet into the life and thinking of a band geek. I hope anyone who reads this fine piece of literature that I have written has gained an insight into the wonderful world of marching band. So, uh, peace out dudes.