A Story About a Band Nerd

My experience in my high school band.

A Story About a Band Nerd

K.L. Orion

I am in my high school’s marching band. As a matter of fact, I am in almost every musical activity provided by my school. With that single fact, it is fair to say that I am a huge band nerd. And I mean huge. Sure, there are a lot of people who are far better musicians than me. There are definitely people who practice a lot more than I do. But I’d say I’m doing pretty good for myself, considering I am a section leader. I also surprisingly have a bit of influence on the rest of the band outside of my section. I serve a bit of a full band leadership role, and I also act as a hype man of sorts sometimes. Basically, I love band, and for numerous different reasons. 

Yes, music is important to me. I love music. But that might not be the main reason I’m in that class, let alone do all the things I do for it. Look, in middle school, I was a wreck. My eighth grade year was more or less a complete disaster. I was in quarantine for the first half of it, and I should have stayed in quarantine for the second half. Once I got back into school, I was completely disconnected with everyone. I was an easy bully target. I constantly made a fool of myself. Don’t get me wrong, I still make a fool of myself, but in a more fun-loving cartoonish way I think. Back then, it was just plain hard to be around me. Few people actually liked me as a person. And I had no intentions of liking anyone else. For all I cared, I wanted to go hide forever behind my fortress of solitude. I wanted nothing to do with anybody. 

And then my mom forced me to go to band camp that summer. I was going into my freshman year of high school, so high school marching band was starting up for me. I went in wanting out immediately. I had no intentions of making any friends or even being slightly social for that matter. I actually made plans to be as negative as I could be. That’s right. I was being a tryhard emo (emphasis on the “tryhard”). And allow me to tell you, that plan fell apart in less than two days. Unlike anywhere else I had ever been before, I actually liked the people in the band. I enjoyed their company. After two days, the little depressed freshy that was me became one of the most enthusiastic people there. For once, I admired the people I was around. And that showed. 

I idolized the upperclassmen that entire year. To an extent, I still do. And when it came time for some of them to leave, I was heartbroken. But it was within their final days there that they made me realize how much I had grown in that single school year. I became liked by people not for being a walking joke, but for being me. They enjoyed my enthusiasm. They encouraged it. And they rewarded me for it. They commemorated me when it was time for them to go on to their next stages of life, passing down a bunch of “band artifacts” to me, remarking that my enthusiasm had helped them make their decisions on who to give them too. By then, it was clear what I was. 

Hell yeah I was a band nerd. 

Next thing you know, I’m signing up to be a section leader going into my sophomore year. Next thing you know, I actually got that leadership role. Now, as a junior, it is my second year of being a section leader, and I am trying hard to be like the upperclassmen who inspired me. Though within the last two years, I’ve learned how difficult it is. Inspiring others is hard sometimes, especially when the others in question don’t always want to listen to you. That is a problem I have run into a lot recently, but every leader has this obstacle. But an issue I sometimes have is a lack of enthusiasm. 

During my freshman year, the seniors were extremely enthusiastic about watching other performances. Us lowerclassmen didn’t have a choice in the matter. We were forced by them to watch these other performances. And I am glad they forced us. Between marching bands and jazz bands, watching other schools’ performances became a favorite of mine. I’d follow the upperclassmen like a puppy dog from performance to performance, excited about whatever show I was about to watch. But when the seniors of that year left, enthusiasm for watching other bands dropped. It became really disappointing quickly as the other band members looked for every excuse to dip on watching other shows. 

Well, last Saturday they had a pretty good excuse. Last week was my town’s homecoming week, and the dance was Saturday night. There was so much hype for the dance. Everyone seemed excited to dress up in formal wear and meet up with their significant others at a high school hosted event. It was a big deal for everybody. Everybody except me. I have no significant other to speak of. I despise formal wear. I despise situations like the homecoming dance to begin with. I found those settings unbelievably awkward and had no initiative to go. Luckily for me (unluckily for the rest of the band), the Pella Marching Dutch Invitational was that night, so I had the perfect excuse to stay the hell away from the homecoming dance. 

Interestingly, I was nagged to come. Two girls in band that I had made good friends with wanted me to come. One of them basically ordered me to come. For the record, neither one was asking me out. I was just a good friend of theirs and they wanted me to be a part of their party. Needless to say, they failed miserably at getting me to even step foot near the dance. But it is actually a miracle either of them could’ve gone, as our band was performing at the Marching Dutch Invitational. 

Our band director was able to get us the earliest spot possible so we could head back to our hometown after we performed. Of course, that was so people could attend the dance if they wanted to. But a fair amount of people who went back just wanted to go home. Not me. I stayed after we were done performing and decided to go do what I found I enjoyed freshman year. Watching marching bands. And just let me tell you, I did not regret my choice whatsoever. Unfortunately, it did rain for a time, postponing the rest of the invitational to later that night. By the time I finally got home, it was past midnight. But it was worth it. 

Students from North Polk blew me away with their royalty themed show where they had a king fight a rival for his throne with swords. Even the band got into it, pretending to sword fight with their instruments. They had a giant throne and even a jail cell. Then Winterset mesmerized me with a marching show themed around space. Their colorful props and hypnotizing music had me hooked. Ankeny had an incredible show about teenage delinquency, with spray paint props and everything. Pella, the host school, had a show with a similar theme but an entirely different approach. Pella bedazzled the entire crowd with all sorts of stunts and tricks. Yes, I said stunts and tricks. Finally, the night ended with a glorious performance by the Hawkeye Marching Band, who came to finish off the competition with a bang. Every bit of that night was glorious. 

But between marching bands, my phone kept buzzing. Remember those two girls I mentioned? They were messaging me while they were at the dance with small talk questions. 

“Sup?” 

“How are you?” 

“How are the bands?” 

I had no idea why they would be trying to talk to me while I was at a marching band competition and they were at the dance. Well, I’d come to find out that the homecoming dance, for as hyped up it is, is incredibly boring every year. No one dances. Everybody stays in little friend groups. The dance is really just a glorified meeting place to start independent hangouts. People usually leave early to go do other things with their friends. That’s what these two girls ultimately ended up doing. They were so bored they decided to text me instead of doing anything at the dance. Even funnier is the fact that they never really talk to me normally. Rather, whenever we talk, it is usually about something important. Small talk rarely happens between us. The thing was that they were so bored that they didn’t know who to talk to at a social event, that they wound up texting me instead. 

I didn’t reply that much. Unlike them, I was having a blast. No, literally, armies of brass instruments were blasting at me. And what a wonderful feeling that is. I by far wasn’t bored. While those two girls left the dance early, I stayed at a marching band competition until nearly twelve at night because I was so transfixed. I am glad I stayed true to my nature, even in the face of a little peer pressure. I am glad I put being a band nerd over going to a popular event, because it paid off. I think there’s a lot of people who would be a lot happier if they gave being a band nerd a try. If not, it has at least done wonders for me. I’m a proud band nerd. 

But I’d like to end with just an odd fact about this whole situation. I did manage to get two others to stay with me at that competition. Ironically, while watching those bands, I was sitting in between those two girls’ exes from the previous year’s dance. I guess I’m not the only one who’s pride as a band nerd overrides a boring dance, now am I?