Drumline

Nothing will fry insired writing or kill the high found in watching a Panamanian drum corps rehearse in the park or keep new drumsticks in their packaging unused as well as television will.

I've been home for several hours now, and except for a really productive discussion with my roommates and making myself dinner, I've been entirely unproductive. But off with the television and back to the Panamanian drum and bugle corps.

I left my office at around six, and heard drums playing in the park. A percussionist myself, I couldn't resisit checking it out to see what it was. What I found was approximately forty percussionists and bugle players. I stood watching them for what seemed like fifteen minutes but was actually an hour and fifteen minutes. I think I smiled the entire time, and before I left, I was invited to come back to Tuesday's rehearsal. Forty some-odd players from all over NYC, technically not amazing players, but they knew what drumming in a group was really about.

On my way home, I stopped into Guitar Center and bought a pair of sticks and a practice pad. I hadn't played in nearly two years, but after watching that rehearsal, I knew what I had to do.