6 Weird Things You Experience In A Marching Band

"Tryouts are five days of nothing but playing and playing and playing from dawn to dusk," said John. "People get blisters on their lips and get dehydrated so much that their tongues become sandpaper. In Blacksburg , we get temperatures in the 80s with high humidity, so many people trying out end up passing out. You are destroyed by the end of the band tryouts."

"Each year I had to compete for one of the 32 trombone slots. You usually get 40 or so people who have played it all their lives, and this is the only place to go. The band director doesn't even get to choose who makes the band -- it's the section leader, an older student, who picks -- usually only picking people they like."

All right, so a bunch of people make it through the world's most unimpressive bootcamp and are accepted into the band. Turns out, the worst is yet to come, because ...

Those instruments are pretty weighty. A trombone can weigh 15 pounds, and a tuba can weigh 20. That's not so bad until you realize you are lugging them around for hours on end, playing your heart out all the while. Halftime shows can last anywhere from 15 to 30 minutes and be filled with moves complex enough to make Michael Jackson look like a drunken hippopotamus.

Wait for it ...

"It was definitely a workout," said John. "It takes a long time to master running and playing at the same time."

The constant movement also means you're gonna sweat, baby. Band uniforms are often made of wool, even in Southern states with humidity over 90 percent. It's like they've learned nothing from the Civil War.

"Your band uniform is going to get soaked from all the sweat," said Derek. "Even during the colder months, we wear underwear and nothing else under the uniforms. We are marching a lot, and even in near-freezing temperatures where you walk out onto the field shivering, by the end of it you are roasting. Our sousaphone player would often button down the top of his uniform once off the field and lay down on the cold ground. He looked like a crazy person, but those hats and thick wool uniforms really heat you up fast."

And just like any football team, the band has to learn a playbook -- although theirs is full of new songs and marching patterns instead of tactical ways to destroy the other team's spines.

"It depended on the day, but I definitely had at least 25 hours a week on-field practice," said Derek. "Altogether? Forty hours. Forty-five? It was like a full-time job."

But there is compensation of some sort, right?

"No one got any scholarships for band at VT," said John.

"Many of us had to decide on working at the Carl's Jr. or staying with band," recalled Derek. "There's no way you can be a full-time student, band member, and part-time employee, especially until the new year."

Even in a high school marching band, the costs to the musician are often more than $7,000 a year. Some schools such as the University of Southern California offer small "band grants," while some schools just give money in the form of awards. Other musicians, like those at football and band giant Ohio State, are dependent on people donating money to their favorite section (unless you are the drum major). So when those upperclassmen are picking new band members, that's in consideration, too: Do they have rich patrons? Or if not, can they shake those sexy woolen outfits hard enough to get the attention of some?

Except they don't, not always:

"My team only made a bowl game once," recalled Derek. "Once the team began losing more, the band was punished. The team still got to stay in relatively good hotels, but we got really sketchy motels and a $5 per diem. Some road trips we were just brought on the bus to a stadium 200 miles away early in the morning and brought back late at night so they didn't have to pay either of those costs."

This even trickled into academics.

"If they did good, suddenly everything was easier for band members: Papers could be turned in later because of games; assignments for us were canceled. But if the team was losing? Professors didn't care -- no special regards were given for us despite needing to be on the road for the entire weekend."

Hey, you band nerds are good at multitasking: Marching and playing at the same time proves that. Just toss homework in there, too.

And it can get worse. If a band plays when the play starts, it can be a 15-yard penalty. "You'd be surprised how many times we tried to goad the other team to play during inopportune moments."

But bands can also use their powers for good.

"The coach was really suspicious, like, all the time," said Derek. "Every once in a while, our director would jog over to the coach then come back, saying to play a certain tune during the huddle. At first we didn't catch on, but after a few games we asked and the director told us: The coach was actually using songs we played to signal a certain play for the quarterback."

"Huddles aren't that long, so most of the 'signals' were just quick ones. The opening bars to 'The Alabama Song' by The Doors were used most often for a certain running play. 'Build Me Up Buttercup' was a really long pass. There were a bunch of others, but we only used those once or twice. For a quick change in plays he didn't want over the radio, he used us."

That's right -- the coach was so paranoid that the headset was being listened in on, he used the band as a secret code. And you thought band wasn't cool ...

What? That makes band cool now, right? Shut up. Jerks.

That isn't an isolated incident. Derek also encountered this.

"The dirt-poor public high school would always get trounced against this private school every year," he recalled. "During my senior year, their school had gotten rid of their band program and asked us if we could play for them. Our director said yes, and we changed into the old gross high school uniforms and played their fight song. The public school looked stunned. They were so used to a small 12-person band. I'm not sure if it was us or an improved team, but they beat the private school for the first time in 24 years."

"Most of the time we are hired out or voluntarily attend funerals or perform at weddings of alumni."

Just imagine it: Your disappointed mother sitting there, all alone at your funeral, when 50 kids in bright red uniforms show up, blasting "Camptown Races" and forming a giant middle finger that spans the graveyard. Truly, band is the gift that keeps on giving.

Evan V. Symon is the interview finder at Cracked. Have an awesome experience/job you would like to share? Hit us up at tips@cracked.com!

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