The spring banquet for the high school marching band (The Pride of Broken Arrow) was last night.  Mel missed it last year since it was right after one of her surgeries but this year we all went and since it was the celebration of the national championship, it was a good one for her to go to.

Erin was pretty good for most of the evening especially since she actually found one of her friends from school to sit with but after the guest speaker when the boring awards began, she began to lose it.  I have to admit I was right there with her and Mel had to poke us both at one time or another to make us stop fiddling with our phones and other ill-mannered distractions.

The highlight of course was the passing out of the championship rings and things were pretty orderly for the seniors but when it got around to the freshmen, things were pretty noisy and uncontrolled.  The older kids were walking around looking at each others’ rings (which is ironic since they were all exactly the same except for the names) and making many photos of each other in little groups.  It was all very distracting which is why Erin and I decided it was OK to play a game on our phones.  These rings were reasonably priced due to the contributions of many sponsors for which I am grateful.  At full retail, that would have been an unpleasant little expense.

The food was good but predictable.  I believe there is one and only one recipe for a banquet:  baked chicken breast (lightly seasoned), rice or mashed potatoes, green beans, rolls, and a chocolatey cake.  It’s been the same menu at every one of these things I’ve been to for about as long as I’ve been an adult.  They have to cook for the least common dietary denominator and chicken is it.   And, as usual, they never got around to me with the coffee.  That’s what I get for sitting in the middle apparently.

Evan seemed to enjoy himself in spite of the fact that he was sitting with us instead of a cluster of his friends.  Of course, they were all with their families too so there really wasn’t any option.

They had gone to the trouble of rounding up as many of the former band directors as they could and they had one old gentleman who had been around since 1938 at which time he was the entire music department as well as teacher of english and history.

But, as I often say, a good time was had by all.  Except maybe Erin during the awards presentations.  At least to judge from her cross-eyed looks directed at me during the proceedintgs.  And the text  message on her phone that said “JUST SHOOT ME!”.