The Most Memorable Parade Experience

         Boom!  The loud, thunderous roar signaled the overhead approach of the three Navy hornet aircraft.  The parade was about to begin!  This was the moment that I had been waiting for, the moment when all of the hard hours of practice and rehearsal were about to be paid off.  I looked around and saw the tall stands of cheering spectators eager to see the magnificent floats and loud bands.  We stood between two floats, both of which were brightly decorated with brilliant shades of red, yellow, green and blue.  My friends and I were enjoying ourselves and dancing merrily to the music coming from the float behind us.  I kept looking at our freshly cleaned uniforms and couldn't help but think that they were the sharper and more vibrantly colored than all of the other bands' uniforms.  The crisp, early morning California air was refreshing and cheerful, as if to signify that the parade was meant to be held on this day.
         I then heard the band director's whistle and the start of the drum tap, which meant that we were about to start moving.  As we started our military-style march, the thought that we were really here had not fully kicked in yet.  The number of people in the streets truly amazed me.  As we ended our parade song each time, the loud cheers rose in volume and I even heard faithful shouts of "We love North Carolina!" and "Welcome to California!"  Soon, we approached the huge 110-degree turn from Orange Grove Blvd. onto Colorado Blvd., and this was where all of the television cameras were situated.  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw our local reporter standing near me, walking backwards with his camera pointed right at my face.  I heard the steady clicking that I had gotten so used to in the days leading up to the event, which meant that his camera was steadily at work producing quality photos for the News & Observer.  I smiled and kept marching along proudly.
         By about the three-mile mark, my feet were aching.  My thick, woolen pants were starting to feel extremely heavy against my sweaty legs.  On the sidewalk on my right, a young man was holding a large sign that read, "Only ¼ mile to go!" and I believed it for a while, until I realized that there was no way that that could be correct.  Even though my feet ached and my arms hurt from holding my saxophone up, I was having the time of my life.  When we marched past our band parents about twenty minutes later, my emotions hit a high point.  Not only were our parents standing up and hollering, but the parents of the band who we stayed with at the hotel cheered for us as well.  This is what really made me proud.  They were the loudest out of everyone that we had seen.
         By now, my feet had shifted into an autopilot mode, and were just constantly moving by themselves.  I looked around and saw that nobody from our band had dropped out from exhaustion.  The float in front of us stopped, and we were allowed to rest and have a short stretch break while we stood there.  It felt so good to be able to move my arms around.  A few minutes after we resumed, I saw another man with a sign.  This time, it read, ř miles to the end!"  I laughed to myself because I already knew that we were almost at the end.  We marched around the corner and turned onto another street.  I was amazed at the number of people who, this far down the parade route, were still lined up along the streets and cheering as loud as the people at the start.  The band traveled under a highway overpass, and as we played the music it echoed all around us.  I thought it was incredible hearing that noise bounce back at us.  Shortly after that, the floats turned onto another street and I knew that we had reached the end.  When I pulled off my hat and started walking towards the bus, I was relieved that it was all over.  However, as I stood in line for lunch just twenty minutes later, I felt a certain sadness within me that wanted to repeat the whole process over again.