First published October 19, 2015
I was reading my friend Teri’s blog post about how colleges should show the entire halftime show during football games, and it reminded me of my days in high school marching band.
Over Christmas break of 1987, my small-town Ohio high school marching band earned the chance to travel to Orlando, Florida to compete in the Citrus Bowl Parade and Marching Band Competition.
While this was very exciting and an honor for our band, it was also rather costly. So we had to sell items such as light bulbs, oranges, and booklets to the local Ponderosa Steakhouse in order to bring our tubas, clarinets, and piccolos down there
This is the one element that remains with me all these years afterward; light bulbs?
We sold them door to door, not through a catalog, and during a monsoon that also happened to coincide with my senior homecoming dance? We were stumbling through the mud selling General Electric light bulbs while most of my classmates were getting ready for the big dance.
Meanwhile, our band director was whipping us into a frenzy by delivering buzz words like:
TELEVISED!
SUNSHINE!
NO PARENTS!
It was a big deal for the 94 of us because it was the first significant band trip we’d taken in the four years I’d been in high school. A fitting end to our high school marching band career.
Every summer, our band traveled an hour away to a church camp in the middle of nowhere to a weeklong sleep-away band camp.
Every summer, our band would drive an hour to a church camp in the middle of nowhere for a week of sleep-away band camp. On the bus ride there, some of us joked that the reason it was in the middle of nowhere was so they wouldn’t hear our screams.
Band camp was packed with five, ten-hour days in the sun where we would learn our “show” and develop a bond with one another and our instructors.
This was in addition to the five days a week practices (rain or shine) we had for six months, the football games we had to perform at during halftime (both home and away games), and the competition performances every Saturday from September to November, which were all over Ohio.
We earned this trip to the Citrus Bowl by outperforming hundreds of other bands from across the country. It was more thrilling than I believe even our parents realized.
We imagined ourselves famous when we learned that the parade we were marching in would be broadcast on television. Just as I was thinking about my Nike and Wheaties endorsements, our band director jolted us back to reality by saying, “They aren’t airing the parade outside of Orlando.”
Our entire village would not be able to see the parade until we returned from Florida.
On the public access channel.
When we arrived in Orlando, it was not the dream vacation we had anticipated.
Our hotel room? Let’s just say it wasn’t “clean” when we got there. Food wrappers, beer bottles, and a plethora of used condoms. Motley Crue would be ashamed.
As we all parted ways to go to our respective rooms, one of my friends said something I’ll never forget.
“It smells like sex in there” she said after sniffing the room.
This, of course, made me giggle and then I accidentally farted. The fart received more attention than her statement, which continues to irritate me to this day, but whatever.
I sniffed the room after my friends had left because I wanted to know what sex smelled like.
For those who are unaware, it does not smell good.
Once our room was ready and the sex smell was less, sexier, we got to unpack and then GO TO THE POOL?
NO!
WE GOT TO GO TO BAND PRACTICE!
WHILE IN ORLANDO FLORIDA!
We Ohioans sure know how to have fun. I don’t remember much about the day-to-day activities, but one thing stands out: The Olive Garden.
Because we didn’t have The Olive Garden in Ohio in 1987, but Orlando, Florida did! But this Olive Garden was different; it served breakfast.
Yes. Breakfast.
We had Olive Garden as a breakfast buffet every single morning we were in Orlando and I have to say; it was delicious!
But, at the time, I had no idea what sex smelled like, so don’t base your opinion on mine.
I almost forgot to mention that we had a moment of greatness while in Orlando! On the local newscast, they featured our band at the Citrus Bowl Competition. I’m not sure who the band director had to sleep with to make it happen, but it was pretty cool!
* NO ONE HAD TO SLEEP WITH ANYONE
There was lots of that going on in our hotel room before we got there. Wink wink.
All that matters is that my French braid made the five o’clock news.
I even called my mom to tell her.
In addition, I believe I yelled, “MY BRAID IS ON TV!!!” MY BRAID IS ON TV!!” which echoed throughout the sex hotel’s hallways.
The Citrus Bowl Parade took place the next evening.
To be honest, the parade was enjoyable but tiring. We marched in darkness for the majority of it because it was held at night.
WHO HOLDS A NIGHT PARADE?
Orlando, Florida.
The televised segment was the only part of the parade that was illuminated.
But the rest of the parade was pitch black.
Our band director didn’t want us to get tired, so we marched in silence to the cadence of our drumline for the majority of the parade.
In the dead of night.
For a distance of ten miles.
That was our Citrus Bowl Parade experience.
They had people whose job it was to hold the bands and guide them into the televised area. They ensure that the movement is continuous and that the bands and floats do not pile up on camera like a depressing parade traffic jam.
It was exciting to discover that Spuds Mackenzie was in the parade with us. We never got to see him, of course.
Because of the total darkness.
I’m not bitter.
We finally made it to the part where we were in the spotlight, and it was thrilling.
The lights and cheers from everyone were incredible. Our band director had instructed us ahead of time to continue playing the song we had rehearsed for this occasion, Wade in the Water.
Then we took a long bus ride from Florida back to Ohio non-stop.
The newspaper was at the school, photographing us as we returned from Florida. My braid is showing off once more.
A few weeks later, we gathered one winter evening for the much-anticipated Citrus Bowl Parade viewing party. We left the public access channel on and set it to videotape all afternoon, even though it wasn’t scheduled to air until seven o’clock that evening. Just in case it started playing at random.
So that night, we waited by our small TV in our family room until it finally came on.
We danced with the Clemson University Marching Band, whose cadence I remembered as we marched behind them in the parade. It was fun reminiscing about the parade and reliving Florida with my family.
We remarked that all of the marching bands were having their names announced, as well as the names of their band directors, and we enjoyed the anecdotes the broadcasters were telling about each band.
THAT WILL BE US SOON!
After months of anticipation, I noticed a familiar marching band banner rising to the top of our television screen.
“HERE COME WE COME!!” I probably screeched a little too loudly.
I could see our hats marching in unison, our cadence ringing loud and clear.I was so proud of both of us.
We looked stunning.
The first red flag was when the announcer said we were from a different town in Ohio. A town two hours south of ours, with the same name but the word New in front of it.
Then, as we were all registering, “did he say the wrong name?” they went to commercial. They actually ran the graphic of the next band over our marching band just as we came into full view on the screen. To say this was a punch in the face is an understatement.
They gave a dog who pretends to drink malt liquor more airtime than our marching band. Teenagers who worked hundreds of hours to travel to Florida.
I realize we didn’t work hard just to be on TV, but it was a nice bonus.
We waited for the commercial to end in hopes that they’d be nice enough to show us after, but no such luck.
That night, I cried so hard. We all cried in the band room the next day when we got to band. I believe our band director cried as well. The only marching band in that parade that was completely ignored by the camera.
For a long time, I held a grudge against Florida.
I still do in secret.
When I see an orange or anything citrus-related on television or in the grocery store, I give it the side eye.
So, the next time you’re at a football game, will you clap a little louder for the marching band?
And if you ever see me stomping a citrus fruit furiously at the grocery store?
Turn the other cheek.
A Grace Full Life 
Reblogged this on A Grace Full Life.
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I wasn’t in our high school band but I heard many stories about their trips to Florida; which from CT meant a very long train ride sitting up the whole way… I was usually quite glad I didn’t have the chance to go with them! LOL.
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I think I am still recovering from that trip. 😂
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