Not these people again

Back in my days as a way cool college student, I was in the pep band. Nothing screams cool like pep band, except maybe marching band. Which I was also a member of. In fact I was voted "outstanding female marcher" my senior year. A very proud moment for me. But I digress.

In pep band, we got to play for all of the basketball games, and Utah State basketball is so fun to watch. The year I was in pep band, the team made it to the NCAA playoffs by winning their conference, so the band and cheerleaders and dance team got to tag along. We all flew on a charter jet to North Carolina, and the team even won the first round game by beating Ohio State. It was awesome. They lost in the second round to UCLA, but that's not what I wanted to write about today.

Usually whenever we would travel (for short distances anyway), the band and the cheerleaders would travel separately. For budget purposes I would suppose. Can't have the band budget paying for the cheerleaders' bus, right? Anyway, there was this one cheerleader who we all referred to as Samurai. She had a haircut that reminded us of a Samurai warrior (even though it was blonde) and she was also extremely tall and muscle-y. She was actually pretty intimidating because we were pretty sure she could beat any of us into the ground. So whenever we referred to her nickname, we kept it very quiet, and I'm certain that she never actually knew about it.

As we were getting off the plane and onto the bus in North Carolina, they only had one bus for the team, and one bus for the rest of us. Meaning the band and the cheerleaders and the dance team had to ride together. It didn't really bother me at all, but Samurai was irate. She and another fellow cheerleader sat down in the seat in front of me and one of my friends. And then I heard the following words escape her mouth, "I can't believe we have to ride the bus with these people."

Her friend nudged her to let her know that she was sitting right in front of, and within earshot of several of "these people" and nothing else was said the rest of the ride. We band people thought it was pretty funny actually. Of course, we never said anything to Samurai because of the aforementioned intimidation factor.

The reason I brought this up? I feel a little like "these people" sometimes when I take the travelling circus that is my family anywhere. Very few people ever say anything, and in fact most are extremely sympathetic with our situation. But I suppose my ultra cool band persona is just waiting for a Samurai-like person to make some kind of comment. Like when I took the boys to the library and all three of them decided to throw a fit when it was time to go. I only had two arms so it took two trips to haul them all out of there. Or when they were being so loud at the Golden Spike historical site that we were asked to leave. So if you ever feel like making some kind of comment, don't worry about it. I've heard it before. And quite frankly, my travelling circus cracks me up most of the time so they make it totally worth being one of "these people."