It also marked the beginning of 20 hour Saturdays on 6 or less hours of sleep.
Our Saturdays technically begin on Friday. Where we all must celebrate together until gameday officially starts at midnight.
You mustn't think at all about the fact that you have to be at practice at 6:45 that morning or else you start crying. And you must be at that practice for 3 or so hours. But hey, at least you get to see a lovely sunrise and the start of tailgating. Only the most devoted band fans show up for those early morning Saturdays.
The real band crowd, at this point thoroughly drunk, sees you that afternoon or evening 2 hours prior to the game. You get ready on your own; always having difficulty with the many pieces of clothing you must put on your body. And then play the show down in front of a rowdy crowd. Sexy dance moves are always a plus as one can never really look sexy in a band uniform.
On the field before pre-game and halftime one can either marvel at the ginormity of football players, or, to avoid a horrendous score, one can take selfies with lovely members from the tenor sax section.
Marching of pre-game commences followed by some football, and then marching of halftime where one plays some Macklemore and Bruno Mars and hopes the student body is even moderately interested.
Finally the game ends - but not really - because now one goes onto the field to play the post-game show. Following the 3rd showing of the night, it's time to march back to campus followed by the last stragglers of fans.
A march back that's filled with painful feet and spirited chants for next week. But it's still not over by midnight. We have to play the fight song one more time and get hyped up for bed before we're finally dismissed to walk home in a catatonic state whilst slowly peeling off layers of uniform and sweat.
And yet, I came back to do it a second year. Because there's something magical about the whole experience. Perhaps the magic comes from a lack of sleep, perhaps from the people I march with. The excitement a stadium full of screaming fans.
I'll never be ready for those 20 Hour Saturdays, but one always has Sunday to recuperate!
Fight on.
E
Our Saturdays technically begin on Friday. Where we all must celebrate together until gameday officially starts at midnight.
 |
| Sophomores and sorority squats. |
The real band crowd, at this point thoroughly drunk, sees you that afternoon or evening 2 hours prior to the game. You get ready on your own; always having difficulty with the many pieces of clothing you must put on your body. And then play the show down in front of a rowdy crowd. Sexy dance moves are always a plus as one can never really look sexy in a band uniform.
 |
| The threesome all put together: we got our spats, gloves, sunglasses capes, overalls, helmets, clarinets and of course our fight ons. |
Then its a march off to the game through tailgate city. One finds lots of joy playing for well and truly drunk folks. But actually, they can be quite entertaining!
At the stadium we get one water and one bathroom break per halftime because band members technically shouldn't need either, but we occasionally have weaknesses.
 |
| Squad Yellow Fever 2012 on a potty break. |
On the field before pre-game and halftime one can either marvel at the ginormity of football players, or, to avoid a horrendous score, one can take selfies with lovely members from the tenor sax section.
 |
| We try to look nice. |
Marching of pre-game commences followed by some football, and then marching of halftime where one plays some Macklemore and Bruno Mars and hopes the student body is even moderately interested.
Finally the game ends - but not really - because now one goes onto the field to play the post-game show. Following the 3rd showing of the night, it's time to march back to campus followed by the last stragglers of fans.
A march back that's filled with painful feet and spirited chants for next week. But it's still not over by midnight. We have to play the fight song one more time and get hyped up for bed before we're finally dismissed to walk home in a catatonic state whilst slowly peeling off layers of uniform and sweat.
And yet, I came back to do it a second year. Because there's something magical about the whole experience. Perhaps the magic comes from a lack of sleep, perhaps from the people I march with. The excitement a stadium full of screaming fans.
I'll never be ready for those 20 Hour Saturdays, but one always has Sunday to recuperate!
Fight on.
E
