How Can I be Expected to “PERFORM”, When There are Tuba Players in the Restroom?

My Musical Ability is... Non-Excistent.Just for the record, if you had told me 2 years ago that I would write a blog with this title… I wouldn’t have believed you.

I went to a college football game this weekend. There is really nothing spectacular about this, but as a school administrator it was awfully nice to be at a game and not be supervising.

In my profession, you “get” to attend lots of events during the course of the year. The good news is that you don’t have to pay admission. That bad news is…well, pretty much everything else.

My philosophy, the only “good” thing about supervising extracurricular events is when nothing “bad” happens. This rule goes for games, dances, graduation, and any other event in which someone can walk up to you as the administrator in charge and ask “Are you the Administrator in charge?”

My advice… always say “No” or at the very least “I don’t speak English.” And as always, when in doubt… run. Trust me, nothing good ever comes out of these conversations.

Nothing good comes out of running either, but at least you have a 50/50 chance of escaping.

In this case, I considered myself lucky because since it was a college game, I didn’t have any responsibilities other than transporting my wife, my daughter, and her little 7 year-old friend (Rent-A-Kid comes in handy when you have an only child).

A beautiful fall Saturday and no supervision for me. Because at college games they have State Police and goofy college freshmen with the words “EVENT STAFF” on the back of their t-shirts (just the freshman… the State Police have their own uniforms).

Just seeing a gangly 19 year old fraternity wannabe with no real authority or power makes me feel safe.

But who am I to judge, because how many people really feel safe when they see me leaning up against the gym wall at a basketball game (occasionally glancing at my watch)?

But, back to the football game.

As soon as I arrived, I needed to find a restroom (because I am old… if you don’t understand this concept you will in 15-20 years). You may feel this is way too much information, but this is when things started to get interesting.

As I walked into the bathroom, I looked up to see not 1, not 2, not 3, not 4, not 5, but 6 tuba players from the college marching band standing around in a circle in full uniform (yes, that includes the snappy hats).

You may be asking how I knew they were tuba players. Easy… they were holding their tubas (this is not… I repeat… NOT a euphemism).

Now, my mind doesn’t always work well, but it does work quickly.

As I came face to face with 6 tuba players in the restroom, I had several thoughts in about 4 seconds…

My first was… I wonder if they are a gang and if so they are smartly dressed and obviously big supporters of the arts.

Secondly, I thought about saying… “This one time in band camp…” but I thought hey may be too young to have seen the movie and even worse, if they are familiar with the movie this might label me as a weirdo and that’s the last thing you want to be perceived as when in the men’s restroom.

Lastly, I worried how I was ever going to “complete my business” when there are 6 band guys holding tubas standing in a circle in the general vicinity.

So, this is what I said. “Guys, I have a hard enough time going when I am by myself, let alone when 6 tuba players are standing around looking at me.”

The head tuba player (no euphemism… get your mind out of the gutter) said, “Well maybe it will help if we play a song.”

So they did and as expected it affected my performance.

Yes, I buckled. Couldn’t take the pressure.

I used to consider graduation speeches, proms, and school board meetings to be the most nerve-racking parts of my life.

Not now.

They all look easy compared to being all alone in a public restroom, except for 6 tuba players.

I guess I am better at supervising others than being supervised.

No matter where you go or what you do, there is always a lesson to be learned.

If you finished reading this blog, you have probably figured out that he is an idiot. On top of that it wasn’t tubas, they were sosaphones. The Wife/Editor.

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