The Perks of Being an Honorary Saxophone

I was sure that I was having one of the worst nights in recorded history. I'd been dragged from my sickbed to go run pep band on my own. I couldn't find an adult or a schedule or a roll. I didn't know when to be where or what songs we'd already played three times. I was running in the cold, looking for a bus to hold six of my kids, tears of sickness streaming from one eye only. People were very kind and helpful, but I was tired and sick and stressed and just done with life.

Then the saxophones invited me to go to Macey's with them to get ice cream and Mexican soda. For some strange reason, I agreed to go, ignoring the awful mood I was in and the looming early morning guard practice. I felt a little bit stupid for letting them talk me into being the odd one out on such a night as this.

Once I got there, I was amazed. The section just instantly welcomed me in, explaining their tradition, telling stories, laughing at my jokes and asking me questions. Drew paid for my ice cream, despite my the awkward slips of my tongue amidst our reminiscing of Financial Lit. Sarah and I shared our girl cup and rolled our eyes at the boys. Tony snorted when he laughed. Ethan gave the most hilarious disclaimers, and Curtin nearly made me vomit. There were dirty jokes and somber moments of regret and this sense of happiness everywhere.

It was astounding how comfortable I felt. They said I was the very first drum major to come with them, but that didn't stop anything. They told a few less dirty jokes, but we all just connected. I felt like I could tell them about my brother's Tina stories and my adventures at DMA and the woes of being a senior in all the sophomore classes. It was so easy; they cared about me and everything that entails, without question. They were loving and joyful and so full of life, I forgot that it was a school night and that I had ever been sick. I could let go and feel them just enjoy my company. They didn't need to test me out or judge my performance; they just asked that I taste the not-that-horrible soda and that I remember, not the practice and classes and work I have tomorrow, but the beautiful night we shared loitering at that table.


By the time I got home, I felt I was the healthiest person on earth.