It was a warm summer's day in Washington D.C. The sun shone brightly overhead and the heat could be felt from within the school bus that the Mighty Indian Marching Band was traveling in.We had been in the bus for quite a few hours and we were more than ready to get off. I was sitting next to my closest friends in band. Sitting next to me was my friend Matt and behind me was Casey and CJ. They played clarinet, but I played the flute. We were all in the same grade and had met each other through the marching band. Earlier in the day we had traveled around D.C. and visited some of the major sights such as the Lincoln Memorial and the Vietnam Veterans memorial. We had an excellent time together and it was relaxing to get away from all of the practice that we had done, but now the fun was over and it was time to get serious. Our marching band was participating in a parade that would be judged. The band that performed the best would receive the first place award. Now it was time for all of that practice to pay off.

From left to right: Matt, CJ, Casey.

We started to prepare ourselves for the parade. Band members grabbed their instrument cases and started to assemble their instruments. Soon the bus was filled with the sounds of students tuning and rehearsing their parts. However, the noise didn't last very long because as soon as the bus doors opened, all of the band members rushed off to escape the unbearable heat. When me and my three close friends got off the bus, CJ exclaimed  "Wow, it was sweltering in that bus. My clarinet is out of tune because of the heat." We needed to make sure that our instruments were in tune or else the band wouldn't sound nice. If the band sounded out of tune we would have points deducted from our score during the parade. So we each passed around a tuner and adjusted our instruments so that the sound from each of our instruments blended together and produced a pleasing tone. It was not yet time for the parade to start, so each of us sat down on a grassy area under a tree to stay out of the sunlight. The feeling of soft turf underneath my hands and the scent of a freshly mowed grass reminded me of all the effort we had put into this routine. Memories of reviewing the music over and over entered my mind. At the beginning of the band season, I thought I would never be able to memorize all of the music that the band director had given to us. Now, I could read every single note of each piece inside of my mind. I remembered how much we worked on our marching techniques until we looked like soldiers. We had practiced for many hours on the football field next to the school, even during rain, snow, and shine.

Before we knew it, it was time for the parade to start. The drum majors blew their whistles and we quickly fell in line. I hurried over to the flute section which was at the back of the line. All of the flute players whispered "good luck" to each other, hoping that we would all perform our best. Then the drum majors blew their whistles three times to signal the start of the parade. The entire band chanted "PTHS" and then we all stepped off and and began marching down the street. We all kept in mind everything that we learned during practice, all of the drills and exercises that we had worked so diligently on. Everything we had worked on has prepared us for this moment. The drum majors raised their batons and the band began to play "The Washington Post", a march by John Philip Sousa. As we began to play, we were no longer a bigger than average group of 190 high school students, but instead a single band working together to create music.

Everyone was exhausted after the parade was over. The heat was scorching and there was barely any wind to cool us off. Thankfully no one had fainted, which would have made our performance suffer.We were all parched so we scanned around the area near the bus for a source of water. Casey found some water bottles that one of the chaperones was handing out and grabbed them for us. We were so thirsty that we drank them in a single gulp. After Matt had finished the last of his water, he spoke up. "Hey guys, I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I have some bad news" he looked downtrodden. "We didn't win first place. One of the other schools received the award." We all let out a collective sigh and lamented our loss. "However, I have some good news as well. We were able to win second place!" Matt suddenly became cheerful, and so did the rest of us. I smiled, but I realized however that it didn't matter if we one first, second, or even last place. All that mattered was being able to do what you love and be with your friends.