There are many things in this world that I do not understand: Japanese candy (who wants a chocolate covered plum?), Ann Coulter, appreciation of the show Friends. However, there are also many things about which my knowledge exceeds my girth in myrrh, and bands are one of them. No, not cool bands like Pantera or Cutting Crew, but band bands—like your high school marching band.

I joined my first band in 3rd grade, playing drums for a Poison cover band. In all honesty, we just lip-synced to Poison songs one day in my friend's garage. But while wielding unsharpened pencils as drumsticks, I quickly realized I was destined for a more sophisticated brand of music. Thus, in 6th grade, I picked up the trumpet and joined the middle school band.

Things went well in this avenue: I quickly learned the technical workings of the instrument and climbed to the rank of first chair trumpet (this is a big deal to band people), and I had something artistic with which I could take a great deal of pride. This continued through high school, when and where marching band was added to the equation. Sadly I did not realize that while I felt like the cock of the walk for my marching proficiency, the world viewed me as I really was: a nerdy sack of geek stuffed uncomfortably into a frilly polyester uniform of shame.

College marching followed, at which point I realized there are really two types of people in marching bands: 1) those who believe that being in a marching band is, in and of itself, the best thing in the world, and 2) normal people who enjoy playing music and going to games for free. I fell into the latter category and quickly grew to loathe the former, the unfortunate mass plagued by something even worse than having the clap. Forget about VD, these saps suffer from BG.

Chapter 1: Birds & Bees

Right about now is a very confusing time: your body is going through lots of changes, you're starting to notice the opposite sex, and more than 51 percent of your friends have complicated external orthodontia. To find out if these symptoms pose the threat that you, a friend or a family member is a band geek, simply complete the following questionnaire:

Question #1: Do you, or have you ever, attended an American high school?

Question #2: When someone blows a whistle, do you immediately stand at attention?

Question #3: When you are walking somewhere and music begins to play, do you walk in step with the beat of the music?

Question #4: Do you think the music of John Philip Sousa actually has a place in civilized society?

Question #5: Does everything that everyone ever says ever have a hidden sexual agenda?

If you answered no to any of these questions, then you're probably safe. If not, you are probably a band geek.

Chapter 2: Abstinence & Alienation

The fact is that if you have BG, you are statistically more likely to die in a car accident preparedness class than you are to have sexual relations with a member of the opposite sex. And if that's true (how could it be false? it's been typewritten!), just think about how hard life is going to be. You'll clearly be able to identify the popular kids in your school, yet you will also sadly recognize that you have no place in their social orbit. Thinking of going to talk to that popular guy or girl over there in the French fries and pizza line? Get bent, loser! Why don't you head back over to the non a-la-carte where you belong!

Chapter 3: Heredity & Environment

Maybe your BG is genetic as, like your parents, you don't have an athletic bone in your body (or if you just snickered at the word "bone"), or maybe your friends roped you into this back in junior high, a simpler time when playing the French horn was actually kind of cool. Whatever the reason, it's best to center the blame, secretly plot some kind of retaliatory vendetta, and, above all else, maintain a sunny outward disposition.

Chapter 4: Self-Help, Intervention & Treatment Options

Every year, millions are diagnosed with BG, but there is hope. As anyone who has ever been in a high school marching band will tell you, a number of people break the cycle annually. Some say it's teenage angst, some drugs or alcohol, but really the truth is so much simpler than that: the truth is that one day they woke up, grabbed their
clarinet case and headed out the door of their mom's house, only to realize what they had become. Shortly thereafter they swore off all things band, even going so far as to tear down that DCI poster they've had in their room for the last three years.

Those are the lucky ones. But what if you've got friends with BG and you want to help them out?

Here's an easy-to-use list of things that BG positive people hate:

• Any other band (as a rule, all band members believe their band is the best one in the history of ever, and every other band is, therefore, severely less good).
• Phasing (this is what happens when one half of the band is playing about a half a beat ahead of the other half of the band).
• Non-sexual jokes (any joke that can in no way be construed as sexual is bound to draw the ire of a BG). Example: Person 1: Knock, knock; Person 2: Who's there? Person 1: I have cancer.
• Social situations with non-band people (BGs are to normal social situations as goldfish are to blenders).

Even if these don't completely cure the BG in your life, they will at least get them to stop talking to you. And really, isn't that what you wanted in the first place, to get that mouth-breather to stop calling you three times a day so you can partake in an enjoyable, active sex life, a moderately controlled drinking habit, and an occasional social outing to someplace other than Steak n' Shake? Put that in your pipe harp and smoke it.