WAG - This is not a travel log.
This should be something better.
Or at least equally as long...
I always intend to write more on trips than I actually end up typing up. I remember old trips where I’d buy a new steno pad and fill up over half of it.
Of course, those were the days before I had a CD player, there were TVs on the bus, and a multitude of other distractions that are more likely to draw my attention than composing.
Other than a page I wrote at the start of the trip, while waiting in the parking lot for more friends to arrive, my output was limited… sorta.
Though I wasn’t cranking out long pages of observations, I was trying to write down all the killer comments that accurately reflected the trip. Reading these quotes should give people an idea how people were acting on the trip.
Of course, I could just tell you that they were kooky, sleep deprived, and just generally nutty, that wouldn’t be as much fun as letting them speak for themselves.
On the Road
8:30 p.m. November 29 to 11:30 a.m. November 30
The first and final Journal Entry:
SWING YOUR PARTNER, DOSI-DOE
Within 30 minutes of my arrival at the practice field, I learned the athletic department had screwed the band, again. It’s isn’t bad. Sometimes it has happened even quicker and to a more serious degree.
A last minute decision was made to consolidate the band and color guards housing arrangements with the cheerleaders and Golden Girls. This is intended to make preparations and executions cheaper and more efficient.
Translation: the previously assigned buses and room numbers will all be mixed up, causing more confusion and general disgruntlement among the newly merged group.
See? Same old same old.
Off we go:
“And the flight of the gypsies begin.”
Directions for addressing the group from the drum line to their instructor, who was the staff member in charge on the bus:
“You have to use the word ‘rapscallions’.”
Percussion Instructor trying to quiet down the bus:
“Hey you guys? I have really bad hearing. I stand in front of a lot of drum lines… Can you hang on for 2 seconds?”
On receiving our $50 per diem shortly after paying $20 on bowl t-shirts:
“If you don’t eat tomorrow, you’ll almost break even.”
“Look at me. Does it look like I’m gonna miss a meal?”
A misunderstanding concerning betting spreads:
“Of course, Arkansas is favored by 2 ½ points.”
“How do you score half a point?”
After someone tells an unrepeatable story about that displays her incredible naivete:
“You’ve obviously stepped on your Jiminy Cricket.”
On the route we were taking to go to Shreveport:
“Are we gonna go through Arkansas?”
“Well… to get to Louisiana…”
“What? Do you think we were gonna go around?”
After a huge, rattling BUMP!
“I like to drive on the roads. How ‘bout you?”
Reactions of a Golden Girl who slept on the trip down and woke up upon our arrival:
“Where are we?’ She looks around. “Oh… We’re in hell.”
First Practice
3:30 p.m. December 30
While our escort cops are doing figure eights in the parking lot:
“Maybe their bosses think that they’re not quite ready for REAL police work.”
“‘Hey you! Go guard the band.’”
“Having a police escort almost makes me feel important.”
Marching on a very dead practice football field:
“Look! A blade of green.”
“No there’s not.”
“There’s more live grass beneath the bleachers than on the field.”
The Band Director addresses the band:
Mr. Stumbo: “Any questions?”
Unknown percussion line member: “Will you kiss me on New Year’s?”
“Battle of the Bands”
7:00 p.m. December 30
“Why don’t you have a belt.”
“Girls don’t need belts.”
“You know… different types of hips.”
“Yeah.” (Places hands on hips) “Nothing’s getting by these.”
“If you think about it, Arkansas is only a couple of letters more than Kansas.”
“Two to be exact.”
“Borrowing” a pep talk backstage before the pep rally’s “Battle of the Bands”
“They make take our pride, but they will never take… our freedom!”
Crowd: “YEAH!”
At the Mandatory Attendance Band Party
8:30 p.m. December 30
After comparing our respective rowdy football fans:
Arkansas Band Member cautioning us: “Well a lot of people from the northern part of the state will be coming down.”
Us: “Hey! There’s plenty of the Ozarks to go around.”
During the karaoke at the party, between the Britney and the OutKast, a guy goes to the stage and does some counter-programming:
“This is for all my Jewish homies out there.”
And then he breaks out into “Hava Nagilah”
Complete with Jewish dancing and the hefting of guys on chairs.
The opinion of our of our Escorting Police Officers on our questionable catering:
“That was not Louisiana fish!”
Returning from the pep gig we pass by a closed liquor store and end up perpetuating some stereotypes:
“It’s 10:30 and the liquor store is closed.”
“What kind of French town is this?”
“It’s not like it’s Amish Country.”
“Liquor stores in Arkansas close at 9 p.m.”
“That’s okay because they make their own.”
“They also marry their brothers and sisters.”
“I think the first has a lot to do with the second.”
Returning to the hotel, we find some fans have spread out along the balcony, dragging their furniture out and draping MU flags everywhere.
“And the tailgating has begun.”
The Night Watch
10:35 p.m. December 30 to 1:00 a.m. December 31
Note: Since I am a student staff member at MU, and school rules still apply on trips. Being caught drinking alcohol (or even being in a room where it was going on) would cause me to lose my job. The odds of ANYONE being busted for alcohol on a band trip are low to begin with; and even lower than usual I would later learn. Still, to preserve my current vocation and my sense of ethics, I decided I wouldn’t spend time in any of the “party rooms.”
That being decided, I still wanted to hang out. I picked a spot on the third floor with a great view and started people watching. I could practice my observation skills, I could still chat with my friends when they came by, and keep out of trouble.
After a while, I became a fixture on the landing and even strangers were coming up to me; providing me with lots of interesting conversations, though my favorite (recalled from memory since I didn't want to bring my notebook) are included here.
Talking to a friend about his gambling losses:
“I’m not upset that I lost $30. I’m just a bit disappointed that it happened quicker than I would have liked.”
Conversation with the night watchman:
“Are you all having a good time?’
“Yeah.” [Glances in the direction of the party rooms] Some more than others.”
“Well party all you want. I’m not gonna stop you. I’m just the security guard.”
[Goes back to cranking the volume on his CD player headset]
Band member under the influence of “party favors”:
“By the end of the night, you’ll know everybody’s secrets.”
“Don’t worry. I’m not taking notes.”
[At least not physical ones.]
Game Day
8:30 a.m. December 31
I see an old friend in the parking lot and ask him how he ended up on a an impromptu trip to Shreveport less than 24-hours before the game:
“Well… We were all at Old Chicago [in Columbia] and someone said, ‘Hey! Wanna go to Shreveport?’”
Morning Practice
9:30 a.m. to 11:00 a.m. December 31
Stumbo: “It’s a good day for football.”
Paraprasing the old, "Game Day" cheer:
“It’s Bowl Game Day!”
“That doesn’t quite roll off the tongue.”
Assistant Trumpet Instructor on the on how the free t-shirts from the night before are even more embarrassing for him:
“As if my jazz buddies don’t make enough fun of me already… I now have a ‘Band Party’ t-shirt.”
Favorite band t-shirt:
“One day at band camp…”
Say it to me one more time and see where I shove my flute.
Flics 2003.
An existential philosophical pondering is posed during trumpet sectional:
“What if the hokey pokey IS what it’s all about.”
ON OUR WAY
2:00 p.m. December 31 to 3:15 p.m.
On the winding route to the stadium:
“What did you think we were going to be able to park next to the stadium?”
“Who do you think you are? The football team?”
“You should be lucky you’re even going on this trip!”
After passing the stadium, looping around in the opposite direction, and moving slowly through a rundown neighboring neighborhood:
“Can we park any FARTHER away?”
Sizing up the local neighborhood:
“Ten bucks says they never take down their Christmas decorations.”
After an interesting, but questionable comment:
“Are you writing that down?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I try to keep my site around PG. Maybe PG-13.”
“That’s a good rating to have.”
“Why do you think I haven’t written down 99 percent of what you’ve said?”
After the Game was Over (Part way through the 4th Quarter)
9:30 p.m. December 31
To deserting Mizzou fans:
“Watch your step!”
“Drive carefully!”
“Have a safe trip!”
Stumbo as the clock winds down:
“Hug a Senior.”
After the game on the trek out of the stadium:
“Just repeat the Missouri motto. ‘Next year guys, next year.’”
Adding up the combined MU loses (including the Men’s Basketball teams defeat at the hands of Belmont):
“I think this is one of the worst weekends in MY history.”
“At least we HAD a bowl game.”
“But we’re still in Louisiana.”
“Yes. That doesn’t change the fact that we are still in Louisiana… in a parking lot… going nowhere.”
Starting the bus ride back
10:30 p.m. December 31
Comparing the meal at a local restaurant to the poorly catered meal the previous night:
“it’s not like last night. You don’t have to stay there four hours.”
[The percussion instructor shakes his head slightly as band members crack up]
“Word.”
“Did you say word?”
“Yes. It’s my sarcastic way of ironically expressing my overall whiteness. Wigga wigga yo.”
A mix-up occurs during our caravan:
“A cop’s blocking our police escort!”
My favorite exchange during my New Year’s Eve call to Jessie:
“I told you, you weren’t going to win.”
“I never said we were going to.”
(Laughter from both sides).
YES WE’RE STILL ON THE BUS
11:15 p.m. December 31
When a person attempts to slip into our convoy:
“On no you…”
“What the…?”
Band starts uses an old rallying cheer to encourage the bus driver to pull forward:
“Hit ‘em again, hit ‘em again! Harder! Harder!
Hit ‘em again, hit ‘em again! Harder! Harder!”
“Look.”
“The cop’s kicking him out!”
Bus: YEAH!
Discussions about previous experiences with police escorts reveal a twisted, slightly deranged anecdote:
“We were close enough to the Pope to snipe him. We got really close to him when he came to St. Louis. We could have got him.”
(Followed by a stunned silence)
Calling out the window at the cop:
“Hey mister! I have some constructive criticism about your police escort!”
Finally, a lookout announces that he can see our hotel’s sign in the distance:
“Shoney’s Inn!”
Bus repeats: “Shoney’s Inn!”
“No. A light’s burned out. Sh_ey’s Inn!” [Pronounced ‘sue -ey.’]
Bus repeats: “Sh_ey’s Inn!”
“Man, we’d cheer for anything now.”
THE COUNTDOWN(S)
11:58 p.m. to 12:00 a.m., 12:00 a.m., 12:00 a.m.
Being in the long line for dinner, I find myself in the Mexican restaurant’s parking lot as midnight approaches. Since we have no access to the television, we are counting down using our own unsynchronized watches. During my Third New Year’s Eve countdown:
“Seven, six, five…”
“What the hell. I do it one more time.”
“…, two, one, happy New Year!”
The Festivities
12:00 a.m. to 2:30 a.m. January 1
Commenting on the Arkansas’s band midnight curfew:
“They may have war, but at least we’re out here now celebrating New Year’s. And THAT I believe is a victory in itself.”
Our groups muses about the departure of Andy (a guy who provided many of the previous comments. We talk about how we miss him and how it may be a while before we’d see him again. We ponder ways to that we could see sooner. Finally, a guy deadpans his final solution:
“I guess I could join a Jewish fraternity.”
A brief silence followed by everyone in the room dying with laughter.
THE NEXT MORNING
8:30 a.m. to 8:50 a.m. January 1
Talking to my “bowl crashing” friends, who are cleaning up their camper and getting ready to head home:
“Want a beer bong”
The guy holds up an funnel. I look to my friend for an explanation. He shrugs and says, “We were tailgating in front of an Auto Zone.”
“Quick,” his friend reminisces, “I need a gallon container, some tubing, and a funnel.”
I ask how they ended up in the parking lot of the Insurance agency, located next door to the hotel:
“We were loud and… they kicked us out of the Shoney’s Inn parking lot.”
A confused friend in the back sits up and says:
“They did?”
My friend complains about his sore back:
“That’s what happens when you spend your night sleeping in the front of a Shoney’s Inn parking lot.”
“Actually, you didn’t even do that well.”
Looks around and smiles:
“Yeah…”
Returning North
10:00 a.m. to 11:30 p.m. January 1
“Okay gang. What’s next on the itenerary?”
“10 o’clock [a.m.], depart. 11 o’clock [p.m.], arrive.”
“I guess we’ll have to schedule our own activities along the way.
Passing the Triple JJJ gas station:
“Isn’t Nine J’s?”
“We’re going to Tijuana.”
“Hijack!”
“Yeah!”
We share the most important lesson learned during the trip:
“They don’t like it when you say Ar-Kansas. That bother’s them.”
'You_dont_say'
