Uh Oh! Better get Mayko! - by James Medley

It was a few days after Farrah and I decided that maces might be a slight possibility for the Disco show. She really wasn't comfortable with the whole aspect, so we went outside to practice and help each other and whatnot. We were outside the back doors to the band room, in the nook facing Officer Reed's house. We were on a break, so there were some people around. I was standing facing the wall and the sidewalk, with Farrah's truck on my left. I warmed up a bit, with a few two-handed-front twirls (rifle spins aren't my cup of tea) and a few shallow tosses. I decided to open up and see how high I could throw. Of course, the higher you want to throw a mace, the closer to the end you have to grip it, and the more wrist fling you have to put in it. Unfortunately, with our certain laws of physics and motion, with a little bit of Newton's 1st law, and horrible positioning on my part; this combination proved most ill.

The optimal hand placement was on the end of the ropes, where it wraps around a few times. These ropes were somewhat loose, but I really didn't take that into consideration. Of course, when I let go, the ropes took the momentum from my wrist and (thank you, Newton), the mace, consisting of most of the mass, continued to fly on a diagonal trajectory. The ropes took the force, and the mace continued to travel sideways because I did not apply a direct upward force to it.

Aside from the physics lesson; I knew where it was going to land as soon as I watched it peak. I screamed, "NOOOOOO!!!!!!", ran in a desperate attempt to intercept it, but of course if it didn't hit I wouldn't have a very good story.

Farrah was so dumbfounded, I think, that she didn't quite realize what had just happened. As she slowly walked up, in tears mind you, I began to thank the little rubber guard on the end of the mace she had, or perhaps it would have been inside of me. The primary impact left a dent in the hood about two and a half inches across and a quarter inch deep. It missed the front windshield by ohhh, six inches. The mace, (demonstrating the third law) bounced four or five times, leaving progressively smaller dents as it went down the side.

Needless to say, I felt like a braying donkey and did not really want to see her for the rest of eternity. She persisted that everything would be all right, but I could tell that it was a deeper wound to her than to her truck.

A few months and two hundred dollars later the ordeal was finally in my past. Though I am not sure, I don't think she ever held it against me. The incident didn't interfere with our duties to the Corps or our friendship. Still today she is one of my better friends, and I don't think I will ever forget her, everything she has taught me, or the accident. Of course, unless she gets the dent repaired, she will never forget me, either.

So Farrah, if you read this, once again, I apologize. To everyone, whenever you are throwing a weighted aluminum stick from the end, don't grip the ropes...

Look Kids, a Toy Soldier! - by Mark Scott

It was our first competition in Universal Studios / Islands of Adventure in Orlando, Florida. The entire corps had planned to go together for our competition and then we would have the rest of the day to ourselves. Well I, a holder of an annual pass, decided to go with my parents and sister and spend a few extra days, and not having to worry about going back with the corps.

There was only one small problem and that was me getting in and meeting up with my group. This though, with the help of understanding staff, was not too bad. Plus I got VIP parking for free, a very nice bonus. While in the parking lot I changed into my uniform. I also got let into the park slightly early, however, there was not anything to see. City walk was deserted and quite. I soon reached the lighthouse near the entrance of Islands of Adventure. This was the area I knew were the buses would come (I knew because a band had already arrived in there bus their.)

While I waited, which was a considerable amount of time, I talked to tourists who approached me on what I was doing here, I was in full uniform after all and was toting my soprano. There, I entertained their brains with the story about how I, and the rest of my group who haven't shown up yet, are participating in a competition here. I also mused them with talking about how were the only high school corps in America. In my talking I even met someone who participated in a drum and bugle corps, though I don't remember which one.

Finally my group showed up and we went in the back lots of the park. This was quite cool actually because you got to see alot of park junk like broken cars, old sets, and the backs of buildings. One building in particular looks almost identical to our school performing arts center building.

There in the back lots we got to warm up and check out some of the other bands. One band was playing the Flinstones theme song. It was quite hot too so we got to take off our shakoes and put them on the ground. Unfortunately, when were done and were told to put them back on, I soon found out that a whole bunch of ants had taken refuge under it from the blazing sun. I got bit only a few times on the head though.

Then it was off to the marching competition. (We played a song called "The Matrix," it had nothing to do with the Matrix movies, and would, a day later, find out that we had taken first place in our division. What a joyous time it was. Our first major competition.) So soon were were done and had to return our stuff to the buses. In my case, however, it was back to my van. So off I went.

Being in uniform still, I figured I should try to still look professional in what I did and help keep our name good. So I stared walking, or rather, marching back to the parking lot at trail position. I felt proud and all, and felt I was representing our corps well. However, represent my corps was the last thing on the vast amount of tourists that had now showed up.

Soon I was beginning to notice this too. People were stopping and pointing. Kids were yelling in laughing in exited ways, getting the attention of their parents. Some people were even taking pictures. All this time I thought they were doing this because they thought I was a member of corps or marching band. But this was soon all dashed away when I heard an excited parent shout, "Hey kids! Look! A toy soldier!" In my efforts to represent my corps so well, I had inadvertently transformed myself before the public eye as a park attraction!