I had a big drum corps camp on Sunday.
This was our first outdoor camp and first full corps camp. It was 35 degrees when we started the day….
…Which made the whole day like some crazy Deja vu.
It was like being transported back to 1990 to college on a fall day and learning drill for a halftime show.
Only now I was trapped in the body of a fat, forty year old.
Like I said, it was crazy.
At one break I was talking with the baritones around me. I told them this whole day had this “hot tub time machine” vibe for me.
Cb: Its bonkers! I haven’t had to learn marching drill in 20 years!!
Scott: You know where I was 20 years ago?
Cb: A zygote?
Scott: In third grade.
Quentin: And I was 3 years from being born!
Cb: You can both go to hell.
And then we laughed, because that’s what this corps is about. Having fun with a mix of different people.
But the mind-trippyness aside, it was a pretty damn cool day.
By 4:30 pm we were doing full playing/marching run-throughs of the drill we had learned.
Granted it was only a small fraction of our show, but it’s the ever important opening statement. And boy does it make a statement.
With an exclamation point!
Which, according to Schoolhouse Rock, makes it an interjection.
We’re doing superfast horn ripple effects, visual corps sequential movement, jazz runs, and big fucking rip-your-face-off hits.
And that’s just the first 30 seconds of our show.
I’m totally excited to learn the rest. And totally paranoid to learn the rest.
It’s going to be fucking cool once we get the whole thing in performance mode. But I’m scared shitless that I won’t remember my drill and cause a trainerwreck.
That’s my biggest fear.
But in case you were wondering, this 40 year old did manage to hold his own yesterday. I was keeping up with the young whelps and corps vets, and hitting all my marks.
Of course today my shoulder is sore and knees are bothering me.
And don’t get me started on my back…