This will probably be the longest post I have ever written up to this point. It's going to contain complex, detailed analysis of the band banquet on Friday night and a party on Sunday night.
Friday:
Okay let me explain. Friday night was the marching band banquet for 2008. Since I am a senior, I guess it was special. Most seniors were very emotional (I'm mainly referring to the "senior practice") but I was definitely not one of them. I just don't get emotional. Every senior said "some words," most gave a full on speech, I kept mine short and sweet. I declared that I joined marching band my freshman year because the drum deserved it. I got some laughs. Nevertheless, this concept really came true to me this year. My good buddies Mr. Jonny Trousdale and Mr. Kelii Miyata did not join drumline this year for their own individual reasons. I was pretty down about, but I figured my contribution to the drumline is significant enough that if I did not join again, the drumline would suffer greatly, not only because of skill level (haha) but because I was a leader, and with that comes responsibility. I really had no idea what would happen this year, but, let me tell you, it turned out pretty insanely awesome. I don't know what changed, but whatever it was, I'm glad it did. I made a bunch of friends I probably would never had made had I not been enthralled by drumming. We had our laughs, after all, we were the senior center. We played bridge, ate tapioca, and to whoever stole my dentures, I will find you (if you have no idea what I'm talking about, I apologize). I made some memories this year, here's a list of a few:
- Scrambled bacon/steamed water- I haven't laughed that hard in a long long time.
- Car wars with Kelsey Fabry- It got pretty interesting towards the end (car batteries and karma)
- "Why do you have pants?" "Yeah" I don't even want to explain.
- Douglas Newbill's broken collarbone
- Talking to Trevor Fabry and Nico Hernandez about meat for 45 minutes.
- Playing with drumline at rallies. Rallies=irony at it's finest. Rallies are known for their cause of boredom; people cheer the loudest when a white streamer flies between the field goal posts. However, while everybody is walking in and out, they are watching the drumline play. We get the most attention out of the entire rally, when, in theory, we should be getting the least. It's awesome.
- I bet there are many more. Please jog my memory.
I had a good time this year. I wish my buddies could have joined me, but it's done now and they missed out. So what's next? Mr. Steve Hernandez is pleading with me to do Winter Drumline. So I guess I'm going to do it. I'll see you all then.
About the banquet: it was a Las Vegas theme so naturally, I wore Hawaii themed clothing. I won Best Dressed for the third year in a row, I was excited. During intermission, the drumline and color guard exchanged their secret santa gifts. I wish wish wish I took a picture of what I gave Mr. David Maresca. I got him a sweet brown suitcase, with treasures such as an "Idiot's Guide To Raising Your Credit Report" an instruction book on the Spanish language and an Ella Fitzgerald record. It was quite the sight. I went to Goodwill and spent $7 to get all my secret santa stuff for the banquet and for the upcoming Wednesday's Christmas party at church. I received a cool hat from Ms. Chloe Porshe. I am grateful.
By the way, the picture symbolizes the ending of the season.
Moving on: Saturday.
Okay, here we go. I was told by Mr. Gabe Kirkpatrick that there was a party on Friday night. I told him I probably couldn't go, which ended up being true. I asked him how it went and he told me it was never Friday, it was Saturday. I sat in amazement and decided to go. I don't know the girl, where the party was at, what time it starts. Nothing at all.
I find out it's a really nice party at a hotel. That's it. 20 mins before 7 pm I get a hold of Mr. Kyle Dietz and he tells me the address of the hotel and that it is "just a dance party." Wow. So I pick up Mr. Scott Weir at 7:20 to go to this "party" that Mr. Gabe Kirkpatrick. We had no idea what we were getting into or even what we were doing. Talk about spur of the moment. On the way over there, we talked about the girl, Ms. Amber White. I had never even heard of her, Scott said he met her once three years ago.
We arrive at the hotel and see Mr. Dylan Bennett outside. Naturally, I roll down my window and yell out to Dylan:
"Dylan! What's up man!"
"What are you guys doing here? You were invited?"
"Yeah man! I'm gonna go park!"
"*look of disbelief*"
I hurry up and park, only to see Dylan completely gone. Scott claims to have seen him get in a car. We go over to where he was standing and on the ground was an unbelievable sight. Dylan had turned into three packs of playing cards. It was astounding.
Mr. Scott Weir decided to call Mr. Gabe Kirkpatrick and tell him to come outside to tell us where to go. We stood over the decks of cards (Mr. Dylan Bennett), in the freezing cold, dressed in suits. As we stood, we notice a girl walk outside. She kinda looks around, sees us and hurries over to us exclaiming: "Are you guys with Gabe? There are going to be a ton of party crashers tonight," as she walks away and back into the hotel. Bewilderment overtook our emotions. Soon Mr. Gabe Kirkpatrick came outside explaining the intense security as they did not want ANY party crashers tonight, which is exactly what Mr. Scott Weir and I were. He even showed us the high-tech "Amber White's Sweet Sixteen" bracelet he had on for entry. As we stood, I rejected party crasher Mr. Garrison Hopper walked out of the hotel. I had not seen this guy since elementary school. We immediately recognized each other and had a little convo. It was the definition of awesome.
Anyway, Mr. Gabe Kirkpatrick walked Mr. Scott Weir and I into the hotel to get out of cold. Here we stood, before the master of ceremony's, some lady who had the guest list. We were not going to be allowed in until we get direct permission from Ms. Amber White herself. This is quite the party. I kept telling Mr. Scott Weir as well as others that the key to this was being polite. On the way in to the party, there was man walking and he looked at me and I at him and I asked, "How's it goin?" and he answered "Fine thanks." Mr. Scott Weir asked me what in the world I was doing. I told him I was being polite, it's the key.
We finally get in. We were told by the master of ceremonies that we could step inside only for Ms. Amber White's entrance, then we would have to get Ms. Amber White's permission to stay immediately after. We were in. We, the party crashers, had gotten into the uncrashable party. Once Amber made her entrance, she made a little speech, explaining she was so glad her most special friends could join her on her birthday. I looked at Mr. Scott Weir and snickered.
Soon, we become enthralled in an addictive game of Craps. At the hotel, there was separate small "casino." Craps is a very interesting game, this particular round resulting in many multi-thousandaires (haha). Little did we know, we were supposed to keep our chips. Oh well. Last night is done now. It was quite ironic as when we walked into the room, everybody swarmed the poker tables. Mr. Scoot Weir and I stood in the middle, confused on what we should do. We were soon lured to the Craps table. What began as just the two of us, became the most popular table in the "casino." This where we met "The Man." This guy was pro. I don't how he did it, but he insisted suit jackets were made to carry poker chips. Interesting. Anyway, we saw this guy allover the place, always alone. We played blackjack with him too. This was quite the interesting party, indeed. I don't know what left. The party catered this wonderful chicken. This was Mr. Scott Weir's favorite part of the party. I'd have to say my favorite part of the party was singing to Ms. Amber White's uncle, Eric, "Happy Birthday" as Saturday was his actual birthday, and out of the love of his heart, he attended his nieces sweet sixteen. I thought it was so random. This guy was Mr. Las Vegas. Not even kidding. I don't feeling like explaining myself.
Oh yeah, and more. Attending Ms. Amber White's party were many "interesting" individuals, most thinking extremely highly of themselves. Most of the party, they wore their shirts open to display their "defined" muscles, and to accompany the bare chestedness, they thought it was so cool to wear their ties on their heads. But wait, there's more. So at this hotel, there is obviously more than one room you can rent out. Because of this, one of the rooms closest to the room dedicated to Ms. Amber White's sweet sixteen was filled with a bunch of older folks. So these bare-chested, tie-headed "basketball players" (thank you for clearing that up, Mr. Joel Waddell) decide to run into the older folks party and dance and yell and act like complete idiots. After the buffoons left, I almost walked in there and apologized for their behavior. I should have.
Here is something else that is sad: the entire party went outside to see the "unveiling" of Ms. Amber White's "present." This was the majority reaction: "Oh, it's only a Jeep Liberty. My mom drives that!" Are you kidding me! That's dedication right there. The only time I talked to Ms. Amber White was moments before Mr. Scott Weir and I left; she exclaimed: "I got a new car!" Soon after, Mr. Scott Weir and I left, reflecting on the party and the wonderful events that took place. Thank you, Ms. Amber White, so much for "inviting" us to your party. I signed your behemoth of a card.
What a night.
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