The other night, the hubs and I were watching the Olympic high platform diving. NBC was demonstrating how their dive camera conveyed the speed at which those ridiculously high dives took place. I turned to the the hubs and said, “This one time, in band camp… I jumped off the high platform.”
A few years after band camp, the hubs and I fostered a long standing friendship with Dave and Elisabeth. We became best friends with them when we lived four blocks apart and we’d show up at their house every Sunday (or Friday or Tuesday) with a bucket of beer. Not one of those puny restaurant buckets, mind you, this was a plastic five gallon bucket of beer.
At the time, Dave and I worked for the same company. I can’t tell you how many hours we spent sharing stories around the water cooler between fighting “fires” at work. My stories almost always started with “Once, in band camp…”
So, can you imagine how hysterical we were when American Pie came out?
Just to be clear, none of my stories included a flute. After all, I played the flag. (Only the color guard will get that)
Still, to this day, Dave and other non-band geeks don’t understand band camp. Band camp was awesome. I only spent one week out of my Sophomore to Senior summers at Central Michigan University band camp but I came away with a lifetime of memories. I’ll never play the flag (or clarinet) professionally but when the Olympic divers get on the high dive platform, I know what it is like to stand there and look down at that teeny, tiny pool below and still have the guts to jump.
Oh, and this one time, at band camp…oh, you’ll just have to wait until next time to find out.