Sorry, No McMillan Yet, But Other Stuff

I'm sorry. I probably won't get to Doc McMillan for a while. I have finals to study for, a test on Wednesday, and a 10-20 page research paper to complete by next Tuesday. So perhaps I can be forgiven for drawing things out like this? No? Well, fine. It's my story and I'll finish it when I have the time. Not when I'm overloaded with work. I will make a third chapter, but it'll most likely come up next Wednesday or Friday, since my major work will be done by then.

We had an amusing episode on the day of the FSU/UF game. I signed up to go to the pre-pre-game pep band, because doing so would erase an absence from my record and I desperately need some absences erased. My attendance is nearly perfect, but two "partial absences" = one absence, and something as simple as forgetting your gloves counts as a partial absence. Think about me for a second...think how often I remember my gloves. Yeah.

So we were at the MUB at 2:15, supposedly leaving at 2:30. Near the trailer which contained our instruments was a large group of tailgaters, who had a massive spread set up. They offered to share their food with us, as they had much more than they could possibly consume. Others declined politely, I accepted graciously. (What? I was hungry.) So I had some shrimp, some potatoes, an ear of corn...and all of it very spicy. So spicy, in fact, that it left a burning sensation in my mouth for some hours afterward. Which was problematic. Keep that in mind.

The trailer door was locked. We were assured that someone would turn up with the keys with plenty of time left before we had to leave. 2:15...2:20...2:25...2:30. The man with the keys was nowhere to be found. I left briefly to go rinse out my mouth, and returned to an amusing sight. Chad had the side door open, but this door was barely the size of a regular door, and the sousaphones were all piled inside. Another of our number, Aaron, was inside the trailer, digging around and picking out the horns that were appropriate to the players. Someone walked by and commented on our novel solution. Chad replied earnestly "We used our ingenuity." Something about the way he said it struck me as extremely hilarious. With difficulty, finally we were able to extricate all of our cases and set up the tubas, mounting up and getting ready to leave. We walked around the building...

...To find that everyone else had already left. Dang, we said. Oh well. We got into two lines of three and marched to the stadium. Not knowing exactly where we were going, Chad had us go into the spot in which we usually entered the stadium. We walked in to find...nobody there. Well, not strictly nobody, more like just a random assortment of football players and fans. There was a notable lack of band members, however. We began to fear one of two horrifying scenarios:

1. The band had been stricken from the face of existence, wiped clean out of reality by some terrible cosmic backlash, and we, the tuba section members, were the only ones remaining, or
2. The jerks had up and left us.

So we sat down near where we usually sit, puzzled and badly in need of leadership. Luckily, our proverbial bacon was saved when one of the staff members came striding towards us urgently. "Where have you been?!?" he demanded. "We're doing GatorWalk! Get up there, it's about to start!" GatorWalk, as I have previously described, is when some of the band lines up along the walkway that the football team takes to get into the stadium and play tunes for them as they enter. So we moseyed up the steps and to the rest of the band, where after only a short twenty-minute wait, GatorWalk began.

I must pause here to describe a subject I feel very strongly about. It is clear to any who might think on the subject, however briefly, that the members of the band are not really enthusiastic about showing up two hours before the game begins to sit in the stands and watch people trickle in. But we do it anyway, partly because we are steadfast in our commitment to the band, partly because we genuinely care about the team and the fans, partly because we want to uphold our status as good students, and partly because we'll get yelled at if we don't. Determining which of these parts is the most significant I leave as an exercise to the reader.

The point is, that for whatever reason, we show up there, and we play tunes to pep up the crowd and the football players as they perform their glorious march into the stadium, to prepare for three and a half hours of opponent-whomping. The football players don't have to necessarily be overjoyed by our performance, but hopefully they can at least appreciate it for the gesture that it is. This means, basically, that why won't those everlovin' jerks remove the headphones from their ears? Can they not part with their beloved music for thirty seconds, even just as a show of good faith? Must we in the band play until our lungs give out, only to see some of these clods headbanging to their own private little musical numbers? WOULD IT BE TOO MUCH TO ASK TO UNPLUG THEMSELVES FOR TWO MINUTES JUST TO BE POLITE?!?

Er. Ahem. But Urban Meyer proceeded the, er, procession, and gave us all a wave and Mr. Watkins, our director, a hearty handshake. At least he has manners. And Tim Tebow, our star quarterback, was headphoneless, smiling and waving at the band members as he proceeded. I'm not entirely sure that his good cheer is not merely an act by him mandated by Urban Meyer to look more presentable, but he seems like a genuinely nice and polite guy. After home games, recently, he has come back to the sidelines to shake hands and exchange high-fives with the fans nearest the field, so that's nice. He even shook hands with our drum major, J.R., who had previously bemoaned GatorWalk as a waste of time, but as Tebow walked away, was grinning hugely.

The actual pre-pre-game playing was fairly pleasant. We sat around and talked for a while, then we got to play some of the tunes we always start in the stands, but never seem to finish, due to the football team's annoying habit of starting a play when we're in the middle of a song. These included "Welcome to the Jungle," "You Can Call Me Al," and "Party Like a Rock Star." I know the last one's just mindless hip-hop, but it's fun to play and the crowd likes it, so sue me. When it was over, we all ran back to the rest of the band, just in time to catch the pre-game tuba sermon.

A special thing of note, about that particular pre-game practice session. It was the last home game of many seniors and others in the band, so as a special treat for them, Mr. Watkins issued everyone copies of Mahler, so that we might play it. You may recall that, I linked to it previously. Even played by a band such as ours, the song is so beautifully created that it is a joy to hear. Especially since it has such a sacred status among the older band members that nobody dares play to any less than the best of their abilities. So good points to Mr. Watkins there. Although there were people who grumbled that he just did it to try and get people on his side, though why he would wish to attract people who are, pretty much to a man, leaving, I cannot fathom. Some people hate him so rampantly as to turn anything he does against him somehow. I do not like these people in the slightest little bit. Hatred should be reserved for those people and acts that deserve it. When one of our drum majors had dental surgery and got an infection, Mr. Watkins put him up in his own house until he managed to recuperate. And yet people claim he just did it to get Kappa Kappa Psi, the band fraternity, on his side.

When, before one practice, I observed Mr. Watkins playing football with some of the band members, people whined that he was just trying to show how "down to earth" he was and commented that, as quarterback, he was not exposing himself to tackles like a "real man" would. More was said, but at this point I believe I ruptured a blood vessel in my brain from apoplexy, and only my sheer desire not to let this madness continue closed the break and forced me back into reality. (Note: Even the freshmen fall into this trap of hatred, but one of them, Renee, states that she believes the same as I do and that the bandwagon hatred of Mr. Watkins is nonsensical. She has made noises about leaving the band next year. I cannot allow this to happen. The last traces of rationality would go with her.)

So, the game. As anyone can tell you, it was an absolute blowout, ending 45-12 us. One team hasn't beaten another by such a margin in over twenty years. After the game ended, as he always does, Urban Meyer came over to thank Mr. Watkins and Mr. Birkner (the associate director) for showing up and to give a salute to the band, as he always does. Such a small gesture, yet it means so much, especially coming from a living legend like him. A single word from Urban Meyer can mean so much on this campus...I wonder if he truly appreciates the depth of his power.

So, uh, nothing else has happened appreciably of late. Oh, well, I have started studying like a maniac for that 10-20 page paper, digging out old tomes from storage that were printed way back in the '30s. Looking at two in particular, I notice they haven't been checked out since 1987. That's right, they've been sitting idle longer than I've been alive. I found that amusing.

As for today's Luke-Approved YouTube Link of the Day? I figured http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1eVnVny8g8c would be amusing. It's a commercial for a PSP game called Exit, which to the best of my knowledge, contains no cats, no fish, and no old people. Despite this commercial. Well, you have to see it to believe it...I really can't explain it at all.

REPLIES.

Sweet Christmas, I got 2 replies. It wasn't a very substantive post, but...sigh. Thanks, Stephen and Vic. Just to show the depths of my gratitude...

Stephen (look at that! I added the n!): I wonder how long this cantaloupe-based reprieve will last. My bet? Not long. The StarCraft board game seems quite true to its original concept, to the point of being horrifyingly detailed. It's not like "StarCraft Monopoly," where you pass Aiur to collect 200 minerals or something. (I don't think that actually exists.) It actually seems to incorporate the in-game mechanics well, from different attacks against different armor to splash damage. Alex and I got along fine, we talked on a surprising number of subjects. Courage is indeed a fine show. And you'll have to wait on McMillan...sorry, but I'm swamped. No creativity.

Vic: Yes, yes, I know, I was merely peeved that you were picking up the thread you set down so long ago. <3

Good evening.