So you’re no longer in band. You might think you’re over it and have moved on to more “adult” things, but Friday nights just don’t feel the same. As you sit there binging Netflix cuddled up with your cat in your jammies, you find yourself wishing you were back on the field. This is just one major red flag that you’re definitely not over your years as band geek. Here a few more signs you may be seeing that prove “once a band geek, always a band geek!”
1. Christmas time at the mall is a nightmare.
Every year I dread going to the mall after Thanksgiving. Why? Two words: "Sleigh Ride." We’ve all played this song hundreds of times and have it burned in to our memories, no matter how hard we try to suppress it.
2. You always find yourself walking in step with those around you.
Even to a song as horrible as "Sleigh Ride." To every song, actually. Even if there’s not a song playing, you’re compulsive about walking in step with the people around you. And if those people are walking at a tempo you like? You bet you’re going to slow down or speed up to keep pace! Sometimes that can be magical though – every so often you start walking at a tempo that you just know and suddenly memories of your favorite show run rampant back into your mind, drill sets and all.
3. When you meet someone who was also a bandie, you have an instant connection.
There’s just something special about people who’ve been in band. And something ignorant about those who haven’t. But at the same time you find solace around other bandies, you also always judge them based on their instrument and find yourself waging a silent war if they weren’t in your section.
4. No one understands you better than your band mates.
Every year I see the underclassmen posting pictures from festivals and band trips. When I see that, I cry inside. Oh, what I would give for Saturday morning competitions and spring break marching at Disney again.
5. You will never ever forget a single song you ever played.
When one of those songs comes on, you don’t sing the lyrics, you sing your part. And heaven help the person who is with you because after that song will come you recalling every memory from the show you played that song in.
6. You’re an excellent kisser.
You worked for years on the perfect embouchure. You may not be in band anymore, but you sure have something to show for it!
7. Calves. Of. Steel.
Along the same lines as the embouchure, you spent years perfecting the art forms of roll steps and backwards marching. And as with any other sport, you grew strong. I’d like to see those track runners try to compare their calves to mine!
8. You hear a song on the radio and start planning a show.
During my free time, I plan epic marching band shows. I come up with amazing themes and everything that would go along with it – costumes, drill formations, the whole nine yards. If I hear a song on the radio that would be perfect for a show (which doesn’t happen very often) I know what I’m doing for the rest of the day!
9. Every parade you go to you critique every band.
You will always believe your band was the best (but for real, mine was). So whenever you go to a parade, it’s not about having fun and catching candy, even if you wish you could. Instead, you’re drawn to picking out every little mistake that each band makes. “Oh my god, their ranks are so uneven.” “Do you hear how flat they are?” “The trumpets are so unbalanced with the rest of the band.” “The color guard looks like they’re doing five different routines at once!”
10. You can undress in public without thinking anything of it.
Not only that, but seeing other people undress doesn’t feel sexual or wrong to you. Instead, it’s “you gotta do what you gotta do.”
11. It feels weird paying to get into sporting events.
The first time I had to pay to get into a sporting event post-band, I think I gave the ticket person the weirdest look ever. Now, I just sneak in with the band. The perks of being an alumni I guess?
12. "Eight to Five" isn’t an explanation of your job.
Marching eight steps in five yards was your life for so many years. Your band director preached it. You spent countless nights marching up and down the field or parking lot in order for the freshmen to finally understand how to march. Those damn freshmen...
