Precisely at 7 o’clock AM, I stir from my sleep as “Marimba” sounds from my phone. The reek of three days’ worth of my roommate’s and my sweaty clothes, dirty socks, and stinky shoes immediately fills my nostrils. Once I’m all ready, I join the rest of the color guard at the small meeting space on the girls’ floor of the dorm and we head out to the cafeteria for breakfast.
Photo by Mitch Davidowitz
Soon, we all sunscreen and bug spray up and I fill up my half gallon jug with water for the day. As we shuffle down the grassy hill to stretch and warm up, I catch the fresh scent of the Tanglewood air and the dew soaks my socks. For the next four-hour block of practice, I force my sore muscles to keep working as we learn more choreography, flag work, and drill. I don’t think I’ve ever physically worked this hard in my life. Every muscle in my body aches. Band camp is no joke.
We get an hour and a half for lunch and dinner. I race to be the first in line for food (even though it’s really not that good and definitely not substantial enough considering we’re exercising for nine hours every day). The section leaders and seniors battle to find the freshmen and make sure they ask for at least one fun fact about them. With a couple other color guard members, I venture to find the one spot in the main building where the Wi-Fi works before we have to get back to practice.
We practice for another long block before dinner. For the couple fleeting moments of peace I get between reps, I stop and listen. Harmonious (and sometimes not so harmonious) music echoes from other parts of band camp and I feel like I belong here. These are my people.
Photo by Mitch Davidowitz
The rest of the day consists of our color guard instructors sneaking us out of band camp to get ice cream after dinner, fighting to the death for snacks after our night practice block, and running to the showers because the color guard deserves them the most. Before going to bed, I hang out with my new friends in the girls’ meeting space, laughing at each other, sharing complaints about the day, and even teaching each other how to twerk. Definitely a “one time at band camp…” story.
Photo by Mitch Davidowitz
I certainly gave my fair share of blood, sweat, and tears at BU band camp, but overall, I’m so happy I joined the marching band. I was able to enter college with an instant group of friends — people who always care about how I’m doing and push me to be successful. I learned a lot about myself at band camp — how I’m stronger than I think I am and can do anything I set my mind to. So, thanks BU band camp for forcing me to challenge myself, not having any bear sightings while we were there, and putting some amazing people into my life.