Pep Band

Today was my last Pep Band game. I died. Pep band made Colgate real for me, somehow. Before it, I was just an isolated human being. I had friends. But I didn't really do anything. I wasn't forced to do anything social, so I never did. While it would appear then that I only ever enjoyed being in my dorm room alone, watching television on my computer, that was not the case. Not in the slightest. I never knew how much I enjoyed going to parties until I was forced to.

Haha, that sounds so negative. But it took everything I had, every ounce of emotional resilience, not to just start bawling at the game. Walking around the hallways surrounding the unlit hockey rink, I tried to focus on the free pizza I was eating, and not on how much I would miss every single one of the nerds and/or musicians in maroon and white striped rugby's. I'm not really a musician. I'm a musical person. But I could never be cool enough to ever dedicate myself to the perfection of playing an instrument. I don't love everyone on Pep Band, but I don't hate anyone. My love, averaged out among the twenty-plus people in Pep Band, far exceeds that per person for any other group on campus. It's kind of like... I wouldn't ever date Pep Band--not exciting enough. But I could settle down with Pep Band, and I could trust that we'd be in love forever. Haha. The dirty jokes and jeers. The fierce competition for song suggestions. The unquestionable phrases catered to specific rivals, such as Bucknell's "Touch Bison." I don't know what it means or how it manifested in the first place. But I'm not going to ask.

And playing a bass drum? Let's be honest: I will probably never get that lucky ever again. If I was a real drummer, then I would know that sometime in the future, it wouldn't be unthinkable to sit down at a set and be awesome and musical. Unfortunately, the bass drum isn't something that people usually buy. It's not practical. It really is NOT practical for anything besides accompanying bands. Not even orchestras. It needs to be drowned out by the loudness of brass.

God. The worst part was, it was a Lacrosse game. I don't even know half the rules. I thought I did. But then someone started telling me what this was and what that meant and I realized that the game is silly. It was on Andy Kerr stadium, too, which only succeeded bringing back nostalgia of fall football games. Football. That's a real sport. That's a sport I can yell at and not feel ashamed. I can beat my drum as loud as I want and I will never feel disrespectful.

I'll miss you Pep Band. I'll remember you fondly. I'll wake up with Firenze stuck in my head. Or Fury. I'll hear Stripper whenever I attempt to seduce someone. Goddammit. You were the best one. You were the best.