Serenaded By Flugelhornists

We went to a college football game yesterday afternoon.  The weather was clear and crisp with lots of sunshine.  Our club seats were wonderful and the home team won.

After watching the marching bands in the halftime show, I’d had enough of sitting in the sun.  I suggested to Zen-Den that we go inside to the private eating area and get something to eat.  Then I suggested in the most adamant terms possible that we should stay inside in the shade to watch the third quarter on one of the many TVs provided therein.  He went along with my idea because: 1) he’s older now and has learned that when he goes to a game he doesn’t have to watch every second of it live to enjoy the game;  and 2) I mentioned food.

So, in we went.


We got our food, found a nice place to sit and were in the process of munching when we heard the marching band.  At first we thought that it was on TV but realized that the noise was getting louder and louder.  [Hello doppler effect.]  The noise was coming from the other side of eating area, so we turned around to see what was happening.

What we saw were 9 members of the flugelhorn section of the home team’s marching band– in full dress band uniform– not quite marching, but kind of kick stepping through the room.  [Think John Cleese in the Minister of Funny Walks.]  They were playing the home team’s fight song–very loudly and not all that tunefully.

It was Monty Pythonesque absurdity at it’s best.  Both of us started to laugh so hard that we were crying.


We couldn’t figure out why a roaming band of flugelhornists had chosen to visit the club section of the stadium.  Was this a reward for them or a punishment for them within the band hierarchy?  Was this a reward for those of us who had paid more for club seats– or was it a punishment for those of us who didn’t get invited to the classy box seats on the quiet level above?  Who knew?

Nor could we figure out if these were first team flugelhornists– or, as Z-D suggested, the freshman reserve flugelhornists allowed to strut their stuff later in the game when a victory was certain.  Considering that they weren’t exactly on key, I’m going with freshman reserve.

I suspect that we’ll never know the answers to these probing questions about the inner workings of Team Flugelhorn.  And that’s okay.  I like a bit of mystery in my life.  But what I do know is that we’ll always remember attending this football game– and our chance encounter with a roaming band of very loud flugelhornists.

5 thoughts on “Serenaded By Flugelhornists

  1. A club seat w/food at a Kentucky game is on my bucket list, but still not scratched off. Does Z-D have any connections in Lexington that owe him a big? I’m not sure what I could trade for it but there’s always something.


  2. All sounds delightful, but I have no idea what a fluegelhorn is. I’m off to Google it. I suspect it’s not those things the south Africans were playing at the World Cup the other year. Polly x


  3. Mike, at this time Z-D isn’t doing much business in Lexington. Sorry. If however the situation ever changes and he gets some tickets there, I’ll put in a good word for you. Better you than me really. I kind of just go along to these sorts of events because I’m curious– more than because I’m a fan of any team.

    PollyBurns2, made me laugh. If it’d been one of those annoying whirling things from the World Cup I’d of lasted 30 seconds before we were out of there.

    Margaret, that’s exactly what it was. Absurd– and a memory for always. Plus I needed something to post about today…


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