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Epic!

My only real parade disaster was during a funeral gig in San Francisco - the band was hired to play for an Argentine/Californian Jewish jazz fan, taking the procession from the funeral home to the family home. About half way through the parade my foot got caught in a small hole in the pavement and I fell forward. My thumb was pulled hard from the ring as I landed on my knees. My bell hit the road, but not too hard - just a small crinkle. However, the gooseneck of the Sousaphone was bashed pretty deep. A few other dents, but I was able to finish the gig.

Some blood, a sore thumb, but no scars.

The repair costs were much higher than the pay...

I believe there is a name for the scar you acquired--PROOF!

That is one hell of a story. I just have one question. What ever happened to the souzy?

My story is not nearly as good as Wade's but I've got to tell it now. The only Marti Gras I ever attended I was marching in a parade with my HS band. Being a senior and section leader I was on outside first row of trombones. I managed to finagle a spot for my girlfriend right in front of me in the majorette line. About halfway through the parade, after the crowd had begun to squeeze us in tight, a drunk came out of the crowd and began to put the make on my girlfriend. I got him right behind the left ear with my trombone slide and he went to his knees. We marched on by, but four rows back the bass drummer, seeing what had happened in front of him, got him a couple of times in the head with a hard bass drum mallet. The assistant band director who was bringing up the rear told us later that he was prostrate and looked unconscious when he went by. There was a cop from the other side of the street heading towards him. I never knew how it came out and never really cared. Never wanted to go back either.

So let me get this straight, Wade-

The jerk boyfriend was rendered incapable of causing any further harm- and you didn't get the girl's phone number?

Man, you must have been REALLY drunk!