Opening Song: "A Brand New Life" - Theme from Who's The Boss?
I wake up today around 11AM ready to put my entire life into boxes and crates and load them into my dad's van. Unfortunately, my dad has scheduled a dentist appointment an hour before we plan to leave, 1:00PM. Anyway, to make a long story short, his appointment definitely won't take exactly 45 minutes as he insists it will... no, not at all. He doesn't get back to the house until 3:45PM and I'm supposed to arrive at the college and pick up my key by 4:00 in the PM. To say that I am pissed would be an understatement (Rrrr...) BUT luckily, we call the college and they say that Security will let me in without a key just this once. Whew.
Once we finally have everything in the car, SOMEONE has the brilliant idea to take the beltway at 5:00 (y'know, RUSH hour) so all chances of me being on-time to the school are totally out of the question. Mom and Dad drop me off (actually, they walk me up) at Schmucker Hall aka Music Department HQ. I'm so scared and nervous 'cause I'm already 30 minutes late to practice on the very first day. Needless to say, I don't feel mortified walking into the room. However, my fear and anxiety subside as soon as my parents finally got the hell out of there and let me talk to the Band director, Dr. Peddell, alone.
Dr. Peddell, the first person I've met in-person at Gettysburg, is very nice... and as we've all come to know, very Australian. It's hilarious to hear him speak with his Australian slang because it sounds like a foreign language (Imagine that). BTW, English is Australia's national language, but seriously, Dr. Peddell needs a translator at all times. And I'm guessing that person will be John, the Bullet Band's drum major this year. John's just a nice, goofy guy who's a big fan of Monty Python and Star Wars. Crazy.
After about 10 minutes, the Band leaves Schmucker Hall and walks down to Musselman Practice Field where we just go over the Marching basics over and over and OVER again. Nothing new, though. Terry Ann, the clarinet squad co-leader, tells me that my turns are "very smooth and controlled." I do love compliments and luckily for me, I always get them at Band Camp ('cause I got it like 'dat). Oh yeah!
One weird thing that I notice about Gettysburg is that the more I look around, the more I see people who resemble my Pasadena friends: Stephan, the saxophone player, looks just like Lil' Ricky; Amy, the other clarinet squad leader, looks and acts like Rippetoe; Jeff, the freakishly tall clarinetist, shouts out random phrases in Italian like John; Megan, the clarinetist and sarcastic control freak (who I love anyway), reminds me of Amanda G; Maggie, the pale and crazy trumpet squad leader, reminds me of Sherry H; Terry Ann and Melissa, the sousaphone player, both remind me of Alexis; and lastly, Emily, the flute player, reminds me of Desiree (so beautiful yet so humble about it).
After about two hours of practice on the field, we go back inside to practice the halftime music we received weeks ago in the mail. I feel so proud/accomplished because I've actually memorized the music--BTW, a lot of people have not. Oh well, the indoor practice goes very well and the band sounds GRRREAT! Afterwards (around 10PM), we have an ice cream social; well technically, I don't since my parents decide to come back at the first sight of fun so I leave without mingling with anyone. Sadness.
My parents and I walk to my new home, Room 302 in Huber Hall, the nicest dorm on campus, mainly because it has a huge common room and an elevator. With my room all set up, my parents and I say our Goodbye's and they head back to Pasadena. I spend most of the night reading the Goodbye cards I got from Shannon, Jamie, Nicole, and Chelsey at my Final Farewell party; I also rummage through the snapshots of all my friends, things I would NEVER forget to bring with me.
The first night in my dorm is terribly uncomfortable. Really, it's torture. Since I'm all moved in 5 days earlier than everyone else (because of Marching Band Boot Camp), the rooms have absolutely no air circulating in them. Lack of breeze makes the windows frustratingly useless. It's a sweatbox, I stay up most of the night watching reruns of Who's The Boss? until finally drifting off to sleep at two o'clock in the morning... only to wake up at two hours later. God, I hope things will be better tomorrow.
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