It was a weekend devoid of sleep.

First we had to be at the Coliseum at 5 to leave for the airport on Saturday. A lot of the band people had actually stayed up all night rather than only sleep for a few hours. One of the trumpets lost his wallet at the airport, which luckily was the only airport incident we had, besides one of the saxophones and Satan, the trombone guy who looks like a cross between a leprechaun, the devil, and a Hell's Angel, getting pulled into the little glass cages for a strangely long wait before being patted down. The trumpet was running all around, even having one of the security people stick her head inside the X-ray machine (which was on at the time...). I asked him who he was behind in line, because maybe he stuck his wallet in that person's bag instead of his own, like he said. He said no, he didn't, but later on, when the security people had actually reviewed the tape of him going through the line he had apparently put his wallet in the bag of the person behind him in line. And luckily for him, that person turned it in and the airport called him even before we got to the hotel in Miami.

Which, come to speak of it, was kind of sketch. In the room I was in the couch didn't have cushions and had gum ground into the rug. It was awkward timing because we got to Miami around 10 am but couldn't check into the hotel room until 1. So everyone went walking around the area by the hotel, which was right by the beach and mostly surrounded by bars, clubs, and small shops selling really revealing beachwear. The group I was with ended up at a little restaurant (our decision made mostly because it started raining while we stood outside it). I had a hamburger that I think had a pat of butter in the middle. Otherwise, the fact that it leaked liquid and had a hole in the middle is disturbing. Maybe it was an ice cube... Anyway, the burger was very moist.

At 1 everyone went back to the hotel to find out that the hotel didn't actually have rooms ready, so our band director told us to come back at 2. I went with Graham and Walker to walk on the beach for an hour. The water was pretty cold. I saw two jellyfish, which had interesting blue tentacles. Everyone there was tan. Living in Miami must do that to you. By comparison us Tech kids were like sheets of paper. When we got back we found out they still didn't have rooms so everyone camped out in the lobby as slowly we got rooms, group by group. My group was second to last, getting our room at 4, only half an hour before we had to leave for the game, taking anyway for time for napping or showering.

Before the game we first played for the very few GT alumni at the Gordon Biersch brewery downtown before heading to an area with food we could actually afford. Then we got a full-circle tour of the Orange Bowl before our bus driver found a parking spot, which actually ended up being diagonal across a driveway and we were all told to get our stuff off as fast as possible so he could move. The stadium itself was more of the 70s kind of architecture that was all over town. The lights were still out from the latest hurricane so ESPN had paid for giant trucks with huge stadium lights on huge poles to be parked outside at four different points and lifted above the walls. They were super-bright. They must be used for search-and-rescue type of things.

The stadium was horseshoe shaped, and in the grand tradition of stadium seating for students and marching bands we were placed in the trianglular shaped end of the horseshow, kind of diagonal to the field. We were facing Miami's band, so had a perfect view of them. They played around three songs, with over 75% of what they played being the very first phrase of the Imperial March from Star Wars.

The great thing was that they had around 130-140 people in their band and were miked. Three seconds after they started playing anything the mikes switched on, which, unfortunately for the stadium at large, were focused on the woodwinds.

It wasn't pretty.

The best thing, though, was that even though they had almost three times as many people as our pep band, and were miked--

we were louder.

I'm not competent enough to describe the football game other than to say that our team was awesome. Normally, I'm sorry to say, there's plenty of plays that make the guys in band who know what they're talking about cringe. But this time they didn't make any mistakes that I could see.

It was so awesome to beat Miami. There was a fan right next to the trombone section that had gone to UGA, our arch-rivals, for his undergrad. I hope he was imbibing heavily and wasn't that illogical normally. He was waving a UGA flag at (or on, in some cases) us, and kept insisting, oh, it doesn't matter, Miami isn't going to lost to Georgia Tech.

Well--ha!

The game ended around 11:30, quite quickly, actually, for a televised game. Afterwards most the band went out to the clubs but I was exhausted and just went to bed.

The next day we had to check out of the hotel at noon so we were able to sleep in quite late. For the four hours before we had to go back to the airport I went around with Graham and Walker. First we ended up at a sports bar place where they watched the Falcon's game and we had lunch, including the alligator bites Graham wanted to try. I didn't have any preconceived notion what alligator would taste like, so when Graham said that it tasted like a cross between fish and chicken I realized that was exactly right.

Not a meat I would seek out, but in some kind of apocalytic situation in which I desperately needed food and somehow had the means/ability to kill an alligator, I'd totally eat it.

I can't say the same for iguana, after seeing that episode of Anthony Bordain's show when he ate the iguana tamale. Ugh.

Anyway, after that, for lack of suggestions, we walked to the Ghirardelli shop Graham had seen on a tourist map. I hadn't thought the guys were enthusiastic about it at all, but once they got in there and saw all the shelves of chocolate they weren't milling around bored but actively searching out the delicious treats that called to them with the irresistible siren song of theobromine. Graham got quite a lot of stuff, doing some Christmas shopping. And both guys bemoaned the fact that it was too soon after lunch to have one of the brownie sundaes they saw other people having.

It sucks for them because the closest Ghirardelli shop to Atlanta is in Orlando. But there's about 7 near where I live in California, so over Christmas, I've gotta try that.

I got some dark chocolate bars for my grandmother and some of the little squares of different flavors for me to try.

At four, the band loaded onto the bus and headed for the airport. In a circuitous route--first we had to go to American Airlines cargo, far from the terminals, to have the tubas and drums sent separately.

After that we checked in to the airport, where I got pulled to the head of the line, I think because I smiled at one of the airline ladies so when she opened a new station she had me come up first. I felt special.

After finding our gate I was with Graham and Walker again, looking for a place to eat, with one of the trumpets, Roger (who's really funny), going from our gate, D32, heading toward the A gates. All the hallways were very white and cramped. We walked and walked and walked forever. And saw nothing. We didn't even see a map, though we did see pictures of a map in the artists' rendering of what the terminals were supposed to look like after the construction was completed. Useful, really. After forever, we came to a sign that said the A gates were a 16 minute walk away, and we gave up, and took the long trek back to our gate.

Eventually after another burger dinner we had around 5 minutes at the gate before we heard that our flight had been moved to the A gates! So then we walked the around 25 minute trip to the A gates! It was a lot of walking. A lot of walking.

After waiting at the A gates for a while, we heard our flight had been delayed from 8:15 to 9:50 pm. Dang it. At that, a lot of people started going to sleep, and some broke out cards to play poker, with M&Ms as chips.

At long last we got on the plane. They were having trouble with the video equipment so the part about "to fasten your seatbelt insert the metal buckle into the whatever thingy", which in grand band tradition, the band responds to, by clicking their seatbelts together in near unison, and giving a great "Ohhhhhh" noise. By the third time, the stewardess came over the intercom, and actually told the other passengers not to worry, we had some special education students on board, and it took us a while to learn things.

Mean to special ed kids, but so funny.

Later on, the pilot came over the PA, and talked about why we had the delay. He talked about the "ceilings" in Atlanta, and well, we don't need to understand but it was a real reason the flight was delayed and it wasn't American Airlines fault, and he just wanted to explain because he thinks the angry letters they always get are better if the writers actually know what they're talking about. It was great. Then, about halfway through the flight, right when the drink cart was the row ahead of me, we hit some turbulence (probably Gamma), and he came on again, saying that we'd hit some rough air, that it was apparently unavoidable, that the flight attendants were discontinuing their drink service, and if they hadn't gotten to you, well, too bad.

It was hilarious. I wondered if it was the band's stupid tricks at the beginning that loosened up the flight crew.

After landing and baggage claim and waiting for the bus to come and getting back from the airport the trip was finally over. I wish I didn't have to get up for my eight o' clock class today but oh well.

A fun trip. Incredible game.

Hopefully we'll cream Georgia next week, too.