"Out of the Tunnel" is a story that I wrote for Creative Writing, a class I took in the fall of my sophomore year. It follows a fictional member of the Michigan Marching Band as she begins her first pregame performance with the band and flashes back to the different moments that lead her to that moment. The story culminates with the formation of the iconic Block M. I really enjoyed taking creative writing, as it was a chance to write about whatever I wanted and explore different writing techniques. While the topics were extremely varied, the writing techniques I learned can be applied to many different types of writing. 

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Out of the Tunnel

            

            “BAAAAAND, TAKE THE FIELD” I hear Carl’s voice echo through the Big House from the back of the tunnel.  We all start moving our feet in time with the drum cadence, keeping our entries low while we can.  Everyone around me starts cuing “left, left, left” on every other beat.  I can’t believe this is really happening.  I’m actually coming out of the tunnel to perform pregame in front of the largest football crowd in the world!  So much has led up to this one moment.

            I grew up watching and listening to the Michigan Marching Band.  My parents actually met because they were both a part of the band at U of M. My dad was a part of the tuba section and my mom played the alto saxophone.  They told me that they used to play old MMB CDs in my room when I was a baby.  One of my earliest memories is going to a Michigan football game and seeing the band pouring out of the tunnel and blasting the crowd with the M Fanfare.  Even as a young girl, I was in awe of the amazing sound that those people could make.  While all of the other little girls were dressed up in Michigan cheerleader outfits, my parents put me in a tiny MMB uniform that my grandma handmade for me.  I still remember going to watch the band practice in the morning before a game, all decked out in my cool uniform, just like the rest of the band.  It’s funny now, to look back at that, when here I am, now one of the people I used to watch myself.
            Only a second has passed in the tunnel but it feels like a lifetime.  The first members of the band are out of the tunnel now and I can hear the crowd yelling and screaming.  I know my parents are out there.  They were so proud when I told them that I had made my first game.  That’s something that neither of them did, and I know they couldn’t be happier for me.  They still have their season tickets, so that makes it easier for them to be here.  I know they would have been here either way to watch me.  This past summer, when we found out that I had been accepted into the MMB, all three of us were extremely excited.  I remember screaming when I got the email and running to tell them.  They were so happy for me that we left that very minute to go get ice cream to celebrate.  Getting ice cream turned into a shopping spree for new athletic clothes and a new pair of tennis shoes to get me through the rigors of band week and the rehearsals that would come after.  Even though my dad hates shopping, he didn’t complain once because he was so proud of me, and he knew that these things would help to bring me out of the tunnel and onto the field.
            A few more seconds pass as I grip my saxophone in my hands.  I remember when I found out that I was going to play the alto.  Back in fifth grade, at the end of the year, each class went to a special room where a bunch of people I didn’t know handed us different instruments on which we attempted to make sound.  After we had tried them all, they wrote down our name and the name of the instrument they thought we should play.  Nobody else was really that concerned about what instrument they were going to play, but I was extremely nervous.  If I was a trumpet player my mom and dad would disown me.  It took me a full five minutes before I got the courage to look at the paper I was given.  When I read the words “alto saxophone” I was ecstatic!  My mom was going to be so happy that I was following in her footsteps.  And clearly my dad didn’t think the alto was a horrible instrument.  I mean, he had married a girl who played one.  I couldn’t wait to get home and tell my parents the wonderful news.
            I get closer and closer to the end of the tunnel and my heart rate picks up.  All I can hear is “left, left, left, left”.  I knew marching band was hard work, but I never knew how truly physically exhausting these entries could be while wearing a full wool uniform on an 80 degree day.  And I thought that my first day of band camp freshman year was so rough.  Of course, at the time, it was pretty hard.  Back in high school, there was never even a question about whether or not I would do marching band.  In middle school, I quickly discovered why my parents both loved to play music and band became my passion.  Beginning high school, I wasn’t going to pass up another opportunity to do what I loved, especially since it brought in the new, challenging aspect of moving while playing.  That first day of band camp was brutal.  I was pretty out of shape and the band director was determined to get the entire group of high schoolers as physically fit as Olympic athletes.  After working out for an hour in the morning, we still had a two and a half hour block where we learned the basics of marching.  And that was just the morning.  This process repeated after lunch and in the evening after dinner.  We marched until dark, until we couldn’t see the drum major’s hands conducting us and until we had more mosquito bites than hairs on our head.  Then we had a campfire and played capture the flag.  I’m not sure how anyone had energy to run around during the game.  I felt like I was dead on my feet.  I collapsed into bed that night, sunburned and exhausted and excited to wake up the next day and do it all again.
            That day was nothing compared to this.  I’m not even doing full out entries yet and I can already feel the sweat forming from the heat of the day, this blanket-like uniform, and from the movement of me and everyone around me.  For a second, I’m not sure if I can do this.  But then I remember the past two weeks, what we call “band week”, and all the preparation and training I’ve had to get me to this moment.  Twelve days ago my parents drove me from our home in Canton, Michigan to Ann Arbor, and, for those twelve days, band has been my life for thirteen hours a day.  I could barely make it through the car ride without screaming from excitement.  We finally got into town and I practically starting bouncing in my seat.  We pulled up to West Quad, where I would be living for the school year.  I could see the Big House in the distance, which made for the perfect moment pulling up.  My parents and I unpacked our car, which was completely full of all of my belongings.  We got everything into my room, and I unpacked as much as I could before it was time to head to my first day of practice with the Michigan Marching Band.  I got to Revelli Hall and walked right in, excited to start.  First, I went to go check out an instrument.  Next, I picked up my sheet music, all 25 pages.  It was a little overwhelming getting that much music at once, especially since our flip folders only come with 10 pages.  I knew I would have to work hard to get it all.  After that, I ate lunch with my parents and the rest of the new members.  I tried to get to know the freshman in my section, since I knew we would be spending a lot of time together.  Finally, it was time to say goodbye to my parents and start my time as an official member of the Michigan Marching Band.  I spent the rest of that week learning marching fundamentals with the rest of the new members and the student leaders of the MMB. 
            That Friday we had our chair placement auditions.  I was extremely nervous, but I still did pretty well and managed to place in almost the exact center of the alto section.  We spent Saturday practicing and polishing our marching skills before First Look.  First Look was the band’s first challenge, or a chance to be one of the people from each section that actually get to march in pregame and halftime, kind of like a marching audition that happens before every game. During the challenge, each member does halftime marching, both forwards and backwards, and a portion of pregame marching.  The moments before my first challenge were some of the tensest moments of my life, since I knew that there were very few spots available for people in my section.  I knew going into it that most freshmen don’t make their first game with the MMB.  When someone doesn’t make a game, they still practice with the marching band and parade to the stadium, but they stand in the stands while the band performs pregame and halftime.  Then, they have a chance to challenge again the next week to get a spot to march for that game.  Knowing that, I still couldn’t help but hope and, apparently, hoping paid off.  When I woke up to my phone beeping with the email which would tell me if I would be marching in my first game, my name was right there, spot P11.  I would be marching on the field for the first game of the year!  I knew that my parents wouldn’t mind waking up to this news, so I sent them a text with the great news.  They immediately answered, like they had been staying up waiting to hear from me, telling me congratulations and to go back to sleep because I was going to need it.  And they were right.  The rest of the week was full of physical and mental exhaustion as we learned all of pregame and an entire halftime show.
            It all lead up to this moment, the past seven years, the past twelve days.  This moment, as I approach the opening in the tunnel.  I’m almost there.  We all start getting our knees up higher and higher as we get closer to being seen by the waiting crowd.  I make sure to stay right on top of the person in front of me so we don’t leave a gap as we almost sprint to make it out of the tunnel.  This moment when I suddenly burst out of the cool dark tunnel into the sun and fresh air.  Everyone is yelling “left, left, left” as I get my knees as high as I can and race onto the open field, where the “lefts” are buried under the roar of the crowd.  It feels like an eternity has gone by in a matter of seconds as we do our last set of entries and fold out to form the block M.  The crowd cheers like crazy!  As an ensemble, we stop our feet and bring up our horns.  A hush falls over all 100,000 people, and I take a deep gasping breath, ready to play the first note of that song I heard so many years ago, the song that started me on this path.  My heart pounds and I feel the sweat pouring down my face as all of the memories of my past come rushing back, almost like my life flashing before my eyes but instead of my whole life it’s just the parts that lead me here, to this moment, taking this deep breath and…