One of the best things about being involved in band was that we went away. Every year, beginning in grade six, we went to the music festival in Some Other City. Without our parents.
So at the tender age of eleven, we were turned loose upon the unsuspecting hotel and hospitality peoples who had to put up with thirty eleven year olds only lightly supervised. Luckily for them, we were in band, not hockey or football, so the worst we came up with (at eleven…later, we were much more creative) was short-sheeting each others’ beds or ordering wakeup calls for our teachers for five AM.
Remember hanging out at the pool/waterslides? Remember how great it felt to be on your own with your friends? Remember making out in the sauna with some guy from Delisle who kept trying to get his Roman Fingers under your bathing suit?
…wait. That wasn’t band. That was Drama. And you weren’t eleven; you were sixteen. And you ended up decking that guy and considered charging him with sexual assault, because agreeing to make out in the sauna does not mean agreeing to letting someone try to work their arm into your vagina up to the elbow.
But those band trips were awesome. I miss band.