I was in a parade once. It was the annual Christmas parade. As I’ve mentioned before, I was “blessed” to play the baritone tuba. Since I was the height and weight of a Smurf, it being really cold, and it being a long parade route, I didn’t cross the finish line. My tuba’s valves froze (due to my excessive spit) and I started to cry. The CBC Television van felt sorry for me and picked me up. I spent the rest of the parade in the back of the CBC van waving and pretending to be important.
Upon further reflection of my high school years, I realize a lot of my adult quirks stem from playing that stupid tuba. I ask you — what would possess any band leader to look at young, tiny me and think: “She looks like a tuba player!”
No wonder I have an odd sense of humour.