We didn't have to be up all that early this day...but tell that to my roomie. She's an early riser, and we got up about 2 hours before the kids wake-up calls every day. That gave me about 3-5 hours of sleep each night. We had a 4 hour block of free time this day, and ended up driving out to Andrew Jackson High school (a team we BEAT in the playoffs last month...just sayin'...) and sort of borrowed their parking lot to get some practice in before contest that night. We unloaded in a grocery store parking lot, and drew a lot of attention to ourselves. We had people stopping to watch like we were rock stars or something. After this we headed back to the hotel, changed clothes and left for a late lunch, warm-up, and contest.
We stopped at CiCi's pizza for lunch, then headed for Terry Parker High for our warm-up. I don't think that the repercussions of such a lunch were fully thought through before hand, but hey - it was food. The warm-up at Terry Parker was interesting in that there was NOBODY there to direct traffic. We got off the buses and were like, "Um...ok. What do we do?" NOBODY there. We just sort of mosey-ed over to the baseball field to warm-up, and mosey-ed over to the football field when the band ahead of us left. This is when the trip mantra started.
boss: "Why don't they have someone here?!"
me: "They don't care."
boss: "Why is this so disorganized?!"
me: "Because they don't care."
And many, many variations on that theme. Also, let me just state for everyone reading that does not know my band director boss (which is pretty much everyone but Val and TX Jen), for him to comment on disorganization...it must be pretty bad.
Anyway, we finished on the practice field and headed to contest. We pulled in and met the shrill, gray-haired parking Nazi for the first time. (sarcasm)She was just swell.(/sarcasm) We were ordered off the bus to take all instruments off the bus, because apparently on that particular field it was illegal to have instruments on the bus. OK, maybe not, but there was no reason given for the executive order, so I improvised. Interestingly enough, that was the only instruction we were given throughout the entire contest. "Get your instruments off the bus and put them all on the truck. Now." Um...ok.
After the instrument migration we get the kids off the bus, to the bathrooms (the peeing-est children EVER) (heh, Cassi, it's another t-shirt!), and back to the buses. We hand out snacks of granola bars and such, then because there is NOTHING else to do, we get them dressed and tell them to go get their instruments off the truck (good thing we put them there!!!!). I stayed with the pit, mostly because there were no instructor-type people there and they looked scared and alone. We learn at this point that Bolles' school just put in a new AstroTurf field and are being understandably crabby about it being torn up...which led me to ask if anyone mentioned the columns that were part of the show. Um, no. Hell's bells, people! They're those enormous cardboard forms you use to pour cylindrical concrete forms for parking lot lights and such...they weigh about 70 pounds each, and while that's not a whole lot you have to consider their use. They're standing up on end for the first 2/3 of the show, putting all that weight on about 2/5 sq. feet of space, and then are knocked down to the ground to symbolize the fall of Rome. I mean, I'm not a physics major, but I do know enough to know that the force of them hitting the ground will be greater than their actual weight...or something like that. Sooo...thus began the Quixote-like task of finding someone to ask about it.
I promised the pit that I would be back, and left them to warm up. We weren't supposed to perform for an hour - they had plenty of wiggle room. I left with a parent (who is also a band director - small world) to find someone to ask about the columns. We figured interrupting a judge was out of the question, so we asked this security guard in a fancy golf cart (with special wheels so as not to tear up the new AstroTurf...I kid you not!). We explained that we thought we'd ask ahead of time rather than be killed later...he thanked us, and then whipped out his cell to call Jeff, the "guy in charge." Well, it turns out that Jeff? He wasn't there. Nope. The contest was already underway, and Jeff was nowhere to be found. ("They don't care!") Jeff was on his way there, though, and would have to inspect said columns to make sure they were ok for use. At this point I entertained the thought of calling my boss (he was warming up the band) to let him know we may have hauled 7 70-pound columns from P'cola for no reason, but thought better of it.
I returned to the pit, where they were all moving around frantically, trying to get ready.
"Mrs. Smith, some guy came over and said we have 5 minutes!"
"What?! We're not on for 45 minutes. 5 minutes till what?"
"Well, he didn't say. He just walked up and said, '5 minutes!' and walked off!" The hell?! I called my boss, and he's not doing any better. Here's the conversation he'd just enjoyed: boss: "We're a little early. What time do we report to warm-up?"
doesn't care: "Oh, not a problem. You can warm-up whenever you want."
boss: "Um...ok. Where is warm-up?"
doesn't care: "Oh, where ever. Find a spot."
boss: "...mmmmkay. When do we go on?"
doesn't care: "Uh, what time did your schedule say?"
boss: "7PM"
doesn't care: "Probably about then."
boss: "..."
So...the long and short? They didn't know, and obviously didn't care. So...he was extraordinarily frazzled, and therefore of no use to me. I could be frazzled on my own. I told the kids in the pit that we were taking matters into our own hands and I was going to make an executive decision. I headed over to the security guard and made sure it was ok to bring the pit over to wait for our performance, and he said "Sure." Thanks, buddy. I called over to a chaperone with them and told them to head over with all the equipment once the band on the field finished up. The security guard DROVE the 20 feet over to me to let me know the columns were a go - apparently Jeff finally showed up and we passed inspection. (They don't care!) We waited there on the sidelines till the band came to the gate, and then my boss called to say we were going on, and where was the pit? Heh. The kids performed, and performed pretty well. They got a little off in spots, and one of the trumpets nearly fell down, but things went well. The original plan was to get them off the field, put away horns, take off coats, and then go back to the stands to eat and watch other bands, but that was all off...get this: they didn't have a concession stand open. No drinks, no snacks, no meals, NOTHING. (They don't care!) By this time all the instructors were completely fed up, so we packed up the truck, packed up the kids, and got the hell out of that crazy place. We went to the Avenue's mall again, and then headed back to the rooms. We told the kids they were going to be up very, very, VERY early the next morning and to get some sleep, then taped the doors and then crashed ourselves. Cripes, what a day. |
