I'm starting to dread Fridays.
Anxiety builds up day by day until it's ready to explode Friday morning. There is no way to be completely ready. Something is always forgotten. And it is impossible to focus on work when my mind is distracted by the upcoming performance.
It's not like I'm doing everything myself. There is an entire pit crew there to do the work, and plenty of students to handle the loading and unloading of instruments on the carts. But there is always the thought at the back of my head -- what if I mess up? What if I forget something?
What if something goes wrong?
I am not a list person. My brain just doesn't work that way. I can write lists up and down and all over the place, but when things start happening, they start happening too fast to worry about lists.
It doesn't help when I'm behind schedule with the Color Guard carrying cases and hurrying to finish the first one in time to show it to the CG director. It completely crowded out of my brain the important information that one of the pit crew was going to meet me at the school at 4:30 to get started on the safety cones.
I remembered this fact about 4:40. And so ran out of the house in a panic.
Got to the school and there were two pit crew members waiting for me, both wondering what had kept me. Now I'm embarrassed and frustrated at the same time, but there's no time for that -- we have to get the signs out in the parking lot and -- oh, no! There's something going on at the freshman campus and there are still cars parked in the lot where the band needs to practice. What am I supposed to do about that?
We put the signs and cones up and then load the podiums on our "extra" cart and I head down to the stadium to drop them off, abandoning the parking lot to whatever fate befalls it. Not much I can really do short of running through the freshman campus screaming for everyone to get their cars out of my parking lot. (Like they care.)
Got the podiums set up and suddenly I'm getting phone calls from the pit crew again -- the big trailer is locked (and I have the key). Well, that's not quite true. The back door of the big trailer is locked, but the side door is unlocked. And the percussion section leaders have a key of their own because they store their instruments in there. But, being the "what can I do to help you" kind of person I am, I rush back to the parking lot to unlock the trailer for them ... only to find that the percussion section leader beat me to it. So I wasted a good rush.
My temper is not helped by this.
Then there is the potluck thing. Or "tailgate" thing. One of the pit crew had promised back during band camp, on the night we had to skip dinner because of a gas leak, that we would have a "tailgate" party at one of the home games, and use up the frozen lasagna he had taken home that night. We thought it was going to be last week, since it was the first home game, so we brought a salad. But no one else brought anything (because there had been a remarkable lack of communication about it). Since there was still a deplorable lack of communication, we didn't bring anything tonight, either. So, naturally, this was the night when this guy decided to bring the lasagna. Again, no one else brought anything.
Unfortunately, yet another crisis drew me back to the stadium, and by the time I returned, the lasagna was put away and it was nearly time for the front line to go. So they went. And I went. Back to the stadium. Again. Waiting. Where's the front line?
The first tractor arrives with four of the carts. Minutes pass. Where's the other one? Oh, there it is! Wait -- it's only got three of its four carts. Where's the other one? The tractor driver unpins the carts and starts heading back, no explanation. I race after him, catching up on the other side of stadium. One of his carts blew a tire! Wish they would've told me -- I have a spare tire and all the tools back on the track. I race back to get them, then (again) to the other side of the stadium again. (Whew!) We change the tire, the tractor driver and I. We try to drive to the track. Rats! There's not enough air in it. It starts to wobble, the tire starts to come off. We need air! I race back (again) to the track to fetch the pump, then back to the cart. Now the stem is twisted too much to lock the pump on. I need to pull it off. I race back to the track (again) to fetch the tools (because I forgot to leave them with the cart) and then back again, only to discover that the tractor driver managed to get it pumped up. Mostly. At least enough to get it safely back to the track.
But we're late. The band has already started to come out onto the field. And then is when I notice, much to my shame and embarrassment, that my crack pit crew team has not noticed that the pregame podium is not set up!!! The marching band directors and the Color Guard coach are putting it up! Where is my crack pit crew team!???!!
I just want to crawl under a rock -- but there's work to do. We tend to the cart tire, pulling it off and moving the tube back into position so we can inflate it properly and then re-install it. By the time all that is done, the pregame is over and the band has left the field and the football game has started.
We get a few minutes to relax before the half-time panic. Here we use the word "relax" to mean something only slightly less than a complete panic attack.
When half-time arrives, the team is behind on points and we're only slightly behind in time. It's a rush to move the football benches out of the way and the podiums and yard markers into place. We stand on the track and watch the performance nervously, hoping everything goes well. The band sounds great. Too soon, they're done, and we move back in to get all our equipment off the field and put the football team's equipment back in place. We want all the podiums out of the way before the band swings around to march in front of the stands. We're only half-successful.
But at least we're done. No more performance, no more anxiety. The only thing left, is to get the equipment back to the trailers after the game is all over. But before the traffic starts up. Which means that we have to leave about five minutes before the end of the game.
One final point: we leave the trailers unlocked when we go to the stadium. Because there's nothing left in them, what would be the point of locking them? So I, as the "keeper of the keys", generally don't worry about making sure the tractor drivers have a key because they shouldn't need one. And I generally stay in the stadium to make sure everything is picked up.
Only this time, someone (we won't name any names) locked the trailers before they went over to the stadium. Not sure what was going through their minds. Don't really care. But when I started getting slightly-sarcastic texts from the guys at the trailer ("Did you forget something?" "We sure could use a key over here!") I almost blew a gasket. Again with the rushing back to the trailer. And arguing with the pit crew team about the procedure we've always used. And feeling tired and exhausted and angry and just fed up.
My final task on game nights is to sit in my car after most everyone else has left in order to make sure all the students get picked up. This is performed with a classical music accompaniment, courtesy of my car radio. It helps me relax, calm down, unwind.
I really needed it tonight.
Anxiety builds up day by day until it's ready to explode Friday morning. There is no way to be completely ready. Something is always forgotten. And it is impossible to focus on work when my mind is distracted by the upcoming performance.
It's not like I'm doing everything myself. There is an entire pit crew there to do the work, and plenty of students to handle the loading and unloading of instruments on the carts. But there is always the thought at the back of my head -- what if I mess up? What if I forget something?
What if something goes wrong?
I am not a list person. My brain just doesn't work that way. I can write lists up and down and all over the place, but when things start happening, they start happening too fast to worry about lists.
It doesn't help when I'm behind schedule with the Color Guard carrying cases and hurrying to finish the first one in time to show it to the CG director. It completely crowded out of my brain the important information that one of the pit crew was going to meet me at the school at 4:30 to get started on the safety cones.
I remembered this fact about 4:40. And so ran out of the house in a panic.
Got to the school and there were two pit crew members waiting for me, both wondering what had kept me. Now I'm embarrassed and frustrated at the same time, but there's no time for that -- we have to get the signs out in the parking lot and -- oh, no! There's something going on at the freshman campus and there are still cars parked in the lot where the band needs to practice. What am I supposed to do about that?
We put the signs and cones up and then load the podiums on our "extra" cart and I head down to the stadium to drop them off, abandoning the parking lot to whatever fate befalls it. Not much I can really do short of running through the freshman campus screaming for everyone to get their cars out of my parking lot. (Like they care.)
Got the podiums set up and suddenly I'm getting phone calls from the pit crew again -- the big trailer is locked (and I have the key). Well, that's not quite true. The back door of the big trailer is locked, but the side door is unlocked. And the percussion section leaders have a key of their own because they store their instruments in there. But, being the "what can I do to help you" kind of person I am, I rush back to the parking lot to unlock the trailer for them ... only to find that the percussion section leader beat me to it. So I wasted a good rush.
My temper is not helped by this.
Then there is the potluck thing. Or "tailgate" thing. One of the pit crew had promised back during band camp, on the night we had to skip dinner because of a gas leak, that we would have a "tailgate" party at one of the home games, and use up the frozen lasagna he had taken home that night. We thought it was going to be last week, since it was the first home game, so we brought a salad. But no one else brought anything (because there had been a remarkable lack of communication about it). Since there was still a deplorable lack of communication, we didn't bring anything tonight, either. So, naturally, this was the night when this guy decided to bring the lasagna. Again, no one else brought anything.
Unfortunately, yet another crisis drew me back to the stadium, and by the time I returned, the lasagna was put away and it was nearly time for the front line to go. So they went. And I went. Back to the stadium. Again. Waiting. Where's the front line?
The first tractor arrives with four of the carts. Minutes pass. Where's the other one? Oh, there it is! Wait -- it's only got three of its four carts. Where's the other one? The tractor driver unpins the carts and starts heading back, no explanation. I race after him, catching up on the other side of stadium. One of his carts blew a tire! Wish they would've told me -- I have a spare tire and all the tools back on the track. I race back to get them, then (again) to the other side of the stadium again. (Whew!) We change the tire, the tractor driver and I. We try to drive to the track. Rats! There's not enough air in it. It starts to wobble, the tire starts to come off. We need air! I race back (again) to the track to fetch the pump, then back to the cart. Now the stem is twisted too much to lock the pump on. I need to pull it off. I race back to the track (again) to fetch the tools (because I forgot to leave them with the cart) and then back again, only to discover that the tractor driver managed to get it pumped up. Mostly. At least enough to get it safely back to the track.
But we're late. The band has already started to come out onto the field. And then is when I notice, much to my shame and embarrassment, that my crack pit crew team has not noticed that the pregame podium is not set up!!! The marching band directors and the Color Guard coach are putting it up! Where is my crack pit crew team!???!!
I just want to crawl under a rock -- but there's work to do. We tend to the cart tire, pulling it off and moving the tube back into position so we can inflate it properly and then re-install it. By the time all that is done, the pregame is over and the band has left the field and the football game has started.
We get a few minutes to relax before the half-time panic. Here we use the word "relax" to mean something only slightly less than a complete panic attack.
When half-time arrives, the team is behind on points and we're only slightly behind in time. It's a rush to move the football benches out of the way and the podiums and yard markers into place. We stand on the track and watch the performance nervously, hoping everything goes well. The band sounds great. Too soon, they're done, and we move back in to get all our equipment off the field and put the football team's equipment back in place. We want all the podiums out of the way before the band swings around to march in front of the stands. We're only half-successful.
But at least we're done. No more performance, no more anxiety. The only thing left, is to get the equipment back to the trailers after the game is all over. But before the traffic starts up. Which means that we have to leave about five minutes before the end of the game.
One final point: we leave the trailers unlocked when we go to the stadium. Because there's nothing left in them, what would be the point of locking them? So I, as the "keeper of the keys", generally don't worry about making sure the tractor drivers have a key because they shouldn't need one. And I generally stay in the stadium to make sure everything is picked up.
Only this time, someone (we won't name any names) locked the trailers before they went over to the stadium. Not sure what was going through their minds. Don't really care. But when I started getting slightly-sarcastic texts from the guys at the trailer ("Did you forget something?" "We sure could use a key over here!") I almost blew a gasket. Again with the rushing back to the trailer. And arguing with the pit crew team about the procedure we've always used. And feeling tired and exhausted and angry and just fed up.
My final task on game nights is to sit in my car after most everyone else has left in order to make sure all the students get picked up. This is performed with a classical music accompaniment, courtesy of my car radio. It helps me relax, calm down, unwind.
I really needed it tonight.
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