by Lenna Gonya

Created on: August 29, 2010

Fun in high school is about extra curricular activities Everyone is expected to have at least one. However, my head held some rare magnetic attraction for softballs, basketballs, and volleyballs, so sports were pretty much out of the question. Band was the next choice. I thought it was safer than sports. You marched around a lot, and got in free to football games.

The start of the fall band season, in our area, was the county fair. Since it comes during Labor Day weekend, the county bands put on a grand performance at the main track, each band showing off their best tunes and steps.

For several years, I had been a majorette, but I decided to go back to playing my clarinet in my senior year, partly because of nostalgia, and partly because of a little incident the previous year. Our majorette routine ended with a flourish of baton throwing, twirls, turns, and a grand finale, with open arms, batons pointing straight out at the side. Unfortunately, the girl to my left failed to maintain assured clear distance, so when we reached the crescendo, her baton reached my forehead. I learned two things from that experience. It’s possible to disguise extreme pain when three thousand people are watching you, and you can’t cover a four inch dent with makeup.  

So, at my last county fair performance, I was once more back in the band. The big night came, and the stands were full.  The bands were lined up around the track, each waiting their turn to show their stuff.

Over the years, you got to know the members from the other bands, so we mingled and talked while we waited. Our uniforms were red and white, which was a pretty popular combination, and the people I was talking too were dressed in the same colors, which is probably the reason that I didn’t notice that our band had marched off. In fact, I only realized this when I heard our band strike up the familiar opening fight song.

I was on one side of the infield and they were on the other, in front of the grandstand. In retrospect, I could probably have just hidden out, but then there would have been that gaping hole in the ranks. There was a fence around the track, which I hurdled without much trouble, and began to sprint across the pitch dark infield. Since there were only lights over the performance area, I reasoned that no one could see me and I could slip in unnoticed.

I was running full speed, my clarinet out in front of me like a soldier going into battle, when I encountered a large hole, undoubtedly made that afternoon by some monster truck or plow horse. By the time I got stopped, I had skidded about five feet, plowing the grass and dirt with my clarinet, and my face. I leaped up and kept going, hurdled the opposite fence, and joined the band just as they began their performance. Some of the crowd was already cheering and applauding as I stepped into place.

I was feeling pretty smug, all things considered, until I noticed that there was a six inch growth of grass coming out of my shattered reed. I plucked it out, faked the performance and breathed a sigh of relief, satisfied that no one had been the wiser. And, if it hadn’t been for the grass and mud stains on my knees, the dirt on my face, and the plume on my hat that was bent at a 90 degree angle, they wouldn’t have. That, and the fact that you really can see the infield from the stands, even in the dark.

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