Before I knew it, it was summertime and I had been to Indianapolis to receive my official drum major shako at DCI finals. In October, I led an incredible high school marching band to be class 3A state champions, and then I ended my senior year marching season with an astoundingly successful trip to Bands of America Grand Nationals in Indianapolis. I could not have been prouder of the Nation Ford Band and to be completely honest, I wasn’t totally looking forward to being the drum major of the All-American Marching Band after such a successful season with my own band family.

Well, yet again, my presumptions were somewhat misguided.

The most tremendous experience of my life began at exactly 3:43 a.m. Tuesday, Jan. 5, 2010. After going to bed around three hours before, as a result of my attempts to complete all the schoolwork I would miss as well as my last minute packing, I was nowhere near ready to find my way out of the many toasty layers of comforters that enveloped me in my bed. However, I knew that I had to, as a fellow Nation Ford High School band member and All-American, Chris D’Avanzo, would be arriving at my house to go to the airport where we would meet up with our third All-American representative from Nation Ford, Claire Sibley, as well as other local band members.

Before I knew it, we were actually landing in Texas! Claire and I were greeted by our own personal chaperone at the airport and taken back to the hotel together; Chris disappeared to find his chaperone. Once we arrived at the hotel, it was magnificent. When we walked in with our provided Army hats on, one would have thought we were royalty. We were given hats, four T-shirts for each day of practice, our official army polos, warm up pants and jackets, a duffel bag, pens, paper, dinkles (for you non-band folks, that’s what we call our marching shoes), socks and so much more. It was a struggle to get back to our room.

Much of the week was a blur. A wondrous, amazing, surrealistic blur. Our director for the week, Dr. Nola Jones, introduced us to the staff, all of whom have awe-inspiring reputations with drum corps, universities, and were just all around amazing people. We were then given a chance to gather in the hallway to meet the other band members. I thought that everybody would just say hello and be polite, but everybody instantaneously formed connections just as strong as the connections I had with people in my own band and friends that I have had for years. We quickly changed into our provided practice clothes and loaded the buses for our first practice at the Alamodome that night. And holy moly, it was COLD. And little did I know then, but that was nowhere near the worst of our weather. The band arced up and began to work with the staff, and then we began learning drill (and for those of you who don’t speak band, that means where we go on the field).

I have never learned drill that fast in my entire life. My brain was exhausted as I tried to keep up with all the different numbers and try to tell the band exactly what to do. My job was to tell them what set number we were starting at, what number we would be stopping at, what measures those counts were in the music, how many counts it took them to get there, and tell them whether or not we were playing, counting out loud, or singing. And on top of all this, I couldn’t feel my feet or my fingers from the cold, and could barely remember the numbers without looking at my cheat sheet. “This is so not what I signed up for,” I thought to myself. “But I have to be better tomorrow.” Before I went to bed that night, I wrote every single number out in my score binder so I would not be caught unprepared the next day. Five hours later, I answered the wakeup call, and we were off to work.

This day went much more smoothly. People were so encouraging and I was so appreciative. I was on the ball today. Always a step ahead, back into the normal drum major groove that I felt at home. I could do this!

In my free time, I was always surrounded by a massive group of people, almost always different every time. Every single person there had just gained 96 new lifelong friends.

But this comfortable happiness did not last long. The next day was rough. And by rough I mean learning the entire rest of our show outside in the coldest recorded temperatures in the history of San Antonio. I really thought I was going to die. As far as I knew, my feet did not exist, nor did my hands, besides the somewhat unconvincing fact that I could see them. Opening my eyes sent a painful stinging sensation through my entire body and I was sure that my head was going to split right down the middle. Sure, we could have gone inside that whole day and finished the drill the following day. But we were All-Americans. We finished the entire show that day. Even with taking breaks inside, as we were at risk for frostbite if we were out for more than 30 minutes at a time, we managed to get the entire show on the field, marching and playing with the army field band. I’m not completely sure, but I feel like that is definitely a world record.

The next day, temperatures were so cold it was a health risk to practice outside. So, naturally, we “painted” lines on the local convention center floor with blue painters tape and performed our show inside. And then it was finally at my fingertips. The moment I had been anticipating the entire week. It was bowl game day, the day where I would conduct the absolute best high school marching band in the United States, along with actual army field band members in the Alamodome in front of 35,000 people, not to mention those watching on TV or Web casts. No pressure or anything.

Morning practice that day flew by. Before I knew it I was suiting up in my sleek, black U.S. Army All-American Marching Band uniform with the zipper up the back, a yellow sash that tapered from the right shoulder down to the left hip sporting the words “U.S. Army” on it and the signature running flag on the right arm mimicking the Army ACU uniforms. The shako hats were black with the gold and white Army star attached to the forehead. There was a gold chain that garnished the base of the bill. The plumes on our shako were about a foot or so tall with shiny black feathers slicked down, each one perfectly in place. I began my hike through the tunnel to line up to enter the field. Every cubic centimeter of my body was shaking, sweating, and pumping adrenaline. I stood at the very front of our two lines, and received the signal to go.

I led the band out onto the field and then took my place on the podium. I jumped when the announcer began to speak, his voice booming and echoing in the dome. And then he said my name. MY name! As THE drum major for this phenomenal band! I automatically saluted, and then started the show. I’m almost positive that I didn’t breathe the entire time. When it was over, I turned around and finally exhaled.

What every single band and staff member had been working so intensely for the entire week, with over 12 hours of practice a day, little sleep, and rigorous work every single day, was all over in a span of about seven minutes. I stepped off of my podium and was bombarded by my staff members, some with tears in their eyes, congratulating me and telling me how incredible the band was, thanking me. But all I wanted was to go see my fellow musicians. I entered the tunnel, where I was greeted with members of the band chanting my name and then a humbling, touching speech by Dr. Jones that left my own eyes watering. It was then time to change out of our uniforms, return to the hotel, and for the first time the entire week, have free time in Texas.

We attended the farewell dinner in the ballroom with our families, where Claire Sibley was awarded the extremely esteemed Calvin Titus award for being the most persevering, encouraging member on the field and helping all of us to push through the tiredness and sub-zero weather and do what we were there to do. I was extremely proud of her and so proud that she represented the Nation Ford band. I was awarded one of four “smile or die” awards, to those of us who kept things positive and helped encourage the band as well.

It was a bittersweet night; I got to take a hot shower and sleep for nine whole hours! Yet it was really the end of this incredible experience. My phone vibrated every hour that night, as I received many more goodbyes and got a text every time someone left to go get on their plane (which started around 3:30 in the morning). I woke up around nine o’ clock in my room, alone. Already I wanted to cry.

But although the experience was over, it will be one I, along with 96 other high school seniors, will never forget. And although we may not see these people ever again, almost all of us still keep in touch regularly.

This was, with no doubt in my mind, the best experience of my life, and those words do not do it justice. It was indescribably wonderful, and yet another example of the overwhelming power of music.