Trombone Catastrophe
by Bradley W.
It was just another ordinary Wednesday noon at PAS high school – middle school. There
was only one more day before we would start our long Thanksgiving break. I had just finished my
third period class and was walking down the hallway to band with Noah.
“What do you think we’re doing in band today, Noah?” I wondered.
“Playing our instruments,” he replied in a snappy yet stupid sounding voice.
I guess it made sense, but we were just walking in the doorway of the band room, so my
question would shortly be answered. Now, I was always slow when putting my trombone together,
so I usually sat down last. That day wasn’t like most normal band days, though. Since it was so
close to break, our band director, Mrs. Reynolds, decided to start the day off with a small dance
party. Well, I was almost done putting my trombone together when I heard catchy upbeat music
start playing. The song was “I Like to Move It Move It.” It became more recognizable as I left the
instrument storage room, and I had always liked music with a snappy up-beat, so I decided to start
dancing. It was all fun until catastrophe struck.
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I hadn’t put down my trombone yet because I hadn’t take my seat. While I was dancing,
my hands started to become lighter. There was a loud sound of metal clanging the ground, but I
was still dancing. I noticed everyone was staring at me, music stopped flowing in the air, and I was
no longer holding a trombone. I looked down to notice my trombone lying at least two feet in
front of me. I picked it up and gave it a quick examination.
“Well, it seems fine to me. There aren’t any new dents or anything” I mumbled to Mrs.
Reynolds.
“I hope it is. Now go sit down,” she replied.
Just as I sat down, people stopped staring at me. I had started playing the B Flat concert
scale with my other band members, but something made it hard to move the slide to the sixth
position. After I finished the scale, I pulled my slide off to see what the problem was. It seemed
that there was a decent-sized dent on the inter slide.
“Mrs. Reynolds,” I croaked.
“Yes, Bradley,” she replied sharply.
“There is a gigantic dent on my inner slide piece.”
“Okay, just put it back in your case and set it on the counter in the repair room. Then you
can take the school’s rental trombone and use it. Oh, and keep your mouthpiece to play the rental
trombone,” Mrs. Reynolds lectured.
I followed her directions and used the school’s trombone to finish rehearsal. Actually I
used that trombone for two weeks after the accident. She told me the bill would be inexpensive.
Well, when my trombone came back, it cost me ninety bucks. My trombone slide couldn’t be fixed
since it was a special brand, so they just bought a new slide for it. I ended up waiting for two more
weeks because the slide didn’t fit the body of my trombone. In the end, I learned to be careful with
my trombone and to never dance with it ever again.