Exhilaration, intimidation, trepidation, excitement . . . all these feelings mixed with hundreds more bubble inside me. Waiting to step (excuse me, march!) onto the field is one of the two longest periods of waiting that a marching band member must endure at a competition. The other long period, of course, would be after the performance, while waiting for the awards presentation. They both feel as if they last an eternity. While waiting to perform, my mind wandered to how I had gotten there, to the World Tournament of Bands.

This band season had started like any other. In June, I had gone to flag camp, where I learned the flag work that would eventually correspond to the show music. A few weeks later, full-band practice started twice a week. Pre-band camp was next, a full week of learning the majority of the drill. The week after pre-camp was probably the worst. Those two dreaded words then appeared: band camp. I packed my bags and loaded on the school bus to travel miles away from home. The destination, you ask? That would be Camp Crescendo. I refer to it as Hell on Earth, because that�s certainly how it felt. On the hottest week of the year, I, along with my fellow band members, was outside marching fifteen hours a day.

After that horrible week of hyperventilation and dehydration on my part (not to mention being sunburnt and close to heat exhaustion), I was finally able to return home. I even got the remainder of the weekend to rest! Wow! Any day I get off, I�m thrilled. However, my period of rest wouldn�t last. Once Monday rolled around, I was once again at school for band purposes. Now post-band camp occupied my time. I really did not feel like marching on that asphalt again. But obviously, I did, and I survived.

School started the next week. Thanks to band, I hadn�t even really had a summer vacation. My class schedule revealed that band was my last class of the day. During that class time, band practice lasted a full hour and a half. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, the band director added an extra five and a half hours to that school day for after-school practice. And on Wednesdays, I would suffer through another two and a half hours for sectionals. In addition to that, there were Friday night home football games and all-day Saturdays, reserved solely for competitions. If anyone were thinking of becoming a band member, my advice would be for them to realize that they�ll most likely h ave to eat, sleep, and breathe band!

All of this does have a purpose, however. I live for band competitions. They are incredible! The band won a few scattered awards as the season progressed. I thought we deserved more than we received, but I guess that everyone thinks that. Almost all of the competitions were the same story. The band would go, perform the show, and settle for being second or third every time. But then, along came state competition (actually it�s called quarterfinals, but I refer to it as state.)

I was extremely excited. This year the show was excellent, spirits were high, and everyone, especially me, was certain that we�d be one of the eight bands to pass quarterfinals. This was all I wanted from my senior year. The previous three years, I had seen three different directors come and go, each changing something and each being different in numerous ways. This year, we�d finally gotten settled in with our current director, and the improvement in our performance showed. I wanted to prove to everyone that the Russell County Mighty Laker Band was back with a vengeance.

You cannot imagine the agony of sitting in the stands, watching the other bands (most of whom were awful, not being biased at all, only being honest), and waiting. I hate waiting. Many people tell me that I am the most impatient person they know, and I will readily agree. To keep myself from going insane, I shouted Laker cheers along with several other band members. Finally, the moment came. They announced the names of the bands that had made quarterfinals in alphabetical order. I had unknowingly held my breath in anticipation. When they began to announce the bands that had qualified whose names began with �s,� I almost went into shock. Had they forgotten to call our name�Russell County�with the �r�s?� I was hoping they had accidentally passed over our name and would announce it at the end. They didn�t. The one thing I had wanted, the most important thing to me (or so I had thought), the opportunity for our band to receive recognition in our home state was gone. I was never going to get another chance. Collapsing onto the cold, hard bleachers, I began to sob. A lot of freshmen were sitting around me. They tried to comfort me, saying that this competition didn�t mean anything�we would just go to Florida and kick major butt. But the Florida competition didn�t mean anything to me. There was no way they could understand my feelings since they had only been in band for one year. I mean, sure, the Florida competition was coming up and promised to be fun and exciting. However, for the seniors, we�d wanted to prove to the state, to our real rivals, that we were back.

I found out when we returned home that we�d lost because one judge had inappropriately based his evaluation on irrelevant criteria. That made me even angrier. I was heartbroken. In case you can�t tell; I�m a band rat.

Well, the next two weeks were pretty relaxed. Of course, I worked hard at practices, but I also had fun. I was still distraught over �state,� but the excitement of Florida was catching. Soon, the time to pack and get ready to leave was upon me. I dreaded the thirteen hour drive there. But, I was excited when I saw the charter buses we were taking. They were awesome! I managed to get a seat to myself with no one sitting next to me. Trust me, I took advantage of that extra room!

When we finally pulled into Ponderosa in Kissimmee, Florida, I was ready to change my clothes and walk around. The air smelled so clean and fresh, especially after being in that cramped bus for so long. After eating breakfast, I boarded the bus once again. This time, the destination was Islands of Adventure! The entire day, I rode roller coasters and water rides until I could hardly walk! I was exhausted when the buses pulled into the parking lot of the Travelodge Hotel. Knowing that I had to get up early the next morning for the parade competition, I went to bed as soon as we got there.

What can I say about the parade, except that it was amazing! It was held at Epcot Center. Usually the Colorguard marched behind the band, but in this parade the Colorguard was to march in front of the band. Since I was the Colorguard Captain, I was in the very front. As I marched through the portrayals of different countries (for which Epcot is famous), I felt overwhelmed. I couldn�t have ever imagined how awesome it would be, and I knew I was lucky to be participating in it. Hundreds of people were there, shouting and applauding. The way I felt was just indescribable�enormously proud. I still remember passing by a woman, who made a comment that I appreciated. As I went by, she pointed to me and said, �That has to be hard!� Boy, was she right! When the parade was finally over, I knew it would be an experience that I would never forget.

After changing out of my uniform, I once again loaded onto the bus to head to DownTown Disney (and food!). The next time I unloaded the bus was at Cypress Creek High School, where we would practice for a few hours before going to the hotel to rest before the field show performance. The practice went horribly. My guess is that it was so excruciatingly hot, no one felt like practicing. However, the excitement continued to build inside me. My very last competition with the Mighty Laker Band was fast approaching.

Before I knew what was happening, I was once again putting on my uniform, pulling my hair into the regulation bun, and applying my guard make-up. I was ready.

Arriving at the stadium, the nervousness began to settle in. It was huge! If you�ve ever watched the Citrus Bowl football game, that�s the same stadium I was facing. With my head held high, I marched with the band to our warm-up area. Like we had at every performance and practice throughout the year, after warming up, we all held hands and prayed. I couldn�t help it, the urge was too strong. I started crying. A few more seniors were shedding a few tears along with me.

As we lined up to march to the stadium entrance, I tried to gather my composure. Even though they weren�t supposed to talk, the guard members around me tried to cheer me up. They knew how I felt about band. For the past four years it had been my life, and I loved it. I had been a true band member, eating, sleeping, and breathing band all the way. And it was almost over. After this performance, I would never again march a show with Russell County. Even now, the thought makes me want to cry.

The time had come to march onto the field. My attitude had to change. I made myself calm down, and began to think of how I was going to perform. This would be my tribute, my farewell to the program that I had dedicated so much time, effort, and love.

Finally, it was time to begin. The snare drum gave us four taps, and we were off, marching along the end zone to the back of the field. As we were being introduced to the crowd, I received a shock. The person introducing us over the loud-speaker said, � . . . The Russell County High School Band . . . Colorguard Captain, Jessica Bell . . .� I was speechless. At competitions in Kentucky, they�d only announce the director, assistant director, and drum major. Not here, apparently. Hearing my name over the loudspeaker made me concentrate even harder. I just had to do my best!

Getting into place at the back of the huge stadium, behind the line, I waited for the drum major to call us to attention. When she finally said, �Band . . . ten hut!� I yelled, �Laker Band� with everything I had inside of me. I was ready.

The drum major gave the signal, and the percussion members started the cadence for us to march onto the field. After setting my flags where they were supposed to be, I ran to my opening position. When she counted us off and the opening measures of the firs song, �Beat 70�, began, I put all four years of my experience into action. During that song, I messed up twice. But I didn�t let that get to me, it just made me try harder. I almost cried, yet again, when the second song began. This was my small solo. I performed it the best I ever had. I was on a roll. The third song was the same way.

When the final measures of the music rang throughout the enormous stadium, I did something forbidden during a performance. I smiled. I couldn�t help it. The exhilaration was amazing. That performance had felt so wonderful and amazing and perfect! Even though I had made a couple of mistakes, that was the best I had ever performed. Everyone else felt the same way I did. Marching off the field, I started crying once again, knowing that that was the last time I�d ever march a field show with Russell County.

We quickly made our way to our seats in the stands. I was anxious to see the other bands. There was one there with over three hundred members (seventy alone being guard!) We were the smallest band in competition with seventy-one. While watching the larger bands, I began to feel intimidated. They were pretty good. Some of their marching was horrible, though. I was beginning to get extremely nervous. As the final band finished, I was on the edge of my seat biting my fingernails. (At the time, I had thought the last band was extremely great. Looking back now, I realize that they weren�t.)

When the emcee began the Awards Ceremony (along with Mickey Mouse!), I think I held my breath the entire time. The emcee began with the parade awards. We had won the Grand Champion of the Parade! Then came class awards. We had also won the majority of those. I learned that our score had been a 90.3! They were calling the scores before the names, so I knew if the last band had a score lower than ours, that I was a part of the Overall Grand Champion band. I sat in front of my guard instructor, who told me (knowing how emotional I was about this), �If they are lower than us, don�t say a word until they call our name! I want to hear our name!� I agreed, even though I knew it�d be hard! So, finally, they got to the last band. And you can bet that the words seemed to drag. �West Orange High School . . . with a score of . . . (long pause) eighty- . . .!� They got as far as eighty before the entire band began screaming. Lorie (my guard instructor) quieted everyone down. The emcee said, �And now, the Grand Champion Award of the Field Show Competition, with a score of 90.3, is . . . (another long pause) RUSSELL COUNTY HIGH SCHOOL!!! And the Overall Grand Champion Award of the Parade and Field Show Competitions at the World Tournament of Bands . . . (he just kept dragging it out. The anticipation was killing me!) . . . RUSSELL COUNTY HIGH SCHOOL!!!�

I erupted! Between screaming, crying, laughing, jumping up and down, and really not believing it, I hugged Lorie as hard as I could. This was what we had worked so hard for. To have our talent and hard work be recognized and appreciated.

As we marched back to the buses, heads held high, the other bands congratulated us. I heard several comments on how great we had performed. I was so proud. When we were put at ease by the drum major, we all screamed and cried, especially the seniors.

I finally realized something right then. Winning our state competition really hadn�t mattered that much. At the time it had, and the loss still makes me a little mad when I think of it. But I know now that I (along with the other band members) had done my absolute best. That�s all that ever matters. I didn�t have to win to be appreciated.

I also reached another conclusion. This wasn�t my last chance to perform with the band. When I leave for college this year while the new Laker Band is practicing for all it�s worth, there is, and always will be, a part of me with them. I gave the band everything I had for four years. Through good times and bad, the band has also always been there for me. No matter what happens in my life, I will never forget the discipline, strength, and compassion that being a band member taught me. I would not trade it for anything in the world. As I look back upon all those practices, camps, and performances, I also look back on many experiences: new friendships, lessons learned from mistakes, the feeling that I�ve somehow contributed something to such an excellent organization. . . the list continues to grow. I can�t wait to come back and watch the band competing in the future. I�ll be there every chance I get to cheer for them and to watch them grow stronger every year.

THE END