So it's the Spring of 1991, and as per usual the UVa Women's Basketball Team is destroying all comers. On track for a potential national championship, our Women wade through the first couple of rounds of the NCAA Tournament, and make a bee-line for the Final Four in the Big Easy.
The Stanford Women's team, also as per usual, is doing the exact same thing.
Heh, heh.
So, boom, the Pep Band flies in and hits the city dead on. We had been there less than four months earlier, when our football team was playing in The Sugar Bowl, and we were not back soon enough to suit us. We even stayed in the same classy hotel downtown. And this time... we knew someone was waiting for us. Namely the one, the only, the truly incomparable Leland Stanford Junior (Pause) University Marching Band
Heh, heh.
In preparation, and not wanting to miss an historic opportunity, someone on our end had taken the initiative of contacting the LSJUMB in advance. Their response: "Yeah, we'll be in Friday night at such'n'such time at such'n'such hotel. We'll give you a call at your hotel when we get in and we'll go out and Rally together." Though we didn't actually know at the time what Stanford's definition of "rally" was, we were enticed. Ah, the sweet anticipation.
Friday night came, but the LSJUMB's appointed hour of arrival came and went. The Pep Band sat around the hotel, doing some casual consuming. One of us, namely your Faithful Narrator, decided to go out for a quick bite. Your Fearless Intrepid hit Canal Street, walked about 150 yards, and realized he was standing in front of the hotel the LSJUMB was supposed to be inhabiting. "What the hell," I thought. "Take a look."
Upon entering the lobby, I immediately stumbled upon piles of luggage and instruments, 30 or so enlivened college students dancing around, 1 Exasperated Student Director trying vainly to check in at the desk, and general confusion. I smiled broadly. Then, naturally, I approached the most beautiful woman in sight. Her name turned out to be Angel, and she was one of the LSJUMB's Dollies - the group of 5 scantily clad attractive women who perform dance routines to the LSJUMB's charts. I introduced myself to her, cited my credentials, and asked her what the story was about our 2 bands converging for the evening. She sidled up, put her arm around my shoulder, and, whispering seductively in my ear, pointed me toward the Exasperated Director. The Director, whose name I've forgotten (I've forgotten the names of every LSJUMB member I met that weekend, with the exception of Scott Stanford, for obvious reasons, and Angel, also for obvious reasons), instructed me to bring my band and our instruments and meet them in the lobby at midnight. I said I thought that would be dandy, and scurried back to our hotel.
Shortly before midnight, 8 or so Pep Band members departed for the rendezvous. Not being terrifically clear on the fact the LSJUMB really intended to play in public, at this hour, and without any invitation from anyone, we neglected to bring any musical equipment. We brought what we always bring, namely our squeeze bottles. When, however, our counterparts started arriving in their lobby, not only toting horns and drums, but all decked out in vests and hats, we started to feel pretty fucking lame. So we ran back, got our things, and caught up with them. And, goodness, was there a lot to catch up with.
The Stanford Band, with its Pep Band mercenaries, roared through the streets of the French Quarter like an 80-proof hurricane. We'd rampage along for a while, then stop and do an impromptu set in the middle of the street. We played furiously, swinging from side to side, the Dollies dancing out in front. People came to their balconies, thronged the sidewalks, applauded. Then the police would come and tell us to move along. So we did, generally into one bar or another, many of which thought we were so cool that they gave us free drinks or pitchers. Then we'd rampage a block or 2 and repeat the cycle. By the time we got to the Park, and played a set there, the police had had enough of the cycle. In order to avoid arrest, Pep Band members played and sang The Good Ole Song, and we all called it a night. Or at least that's what we thought.
We all walked back together, singing and swapping bawdy drinking songs. LSJUMB members graciously taught us The S&M Man Song, for which we have always been grateful. At their hotel, we bid our new friends good night, and headed back to our hotel. We soon realized that there really weren't enough Pep Band people still awake to do anything really interesting. We commented on how much we liked the LSJUMB people. We decided to head back to their hotel to see what they were up to. When we got to their floor, and the elevator doors opened, and we stuck our heads out, we found out what they were up to: there was the bulk of their group, sans instruments now, barrelling down the hall directly towards us. "We're going back to Bourbon Street!" they explained. We joined them.
After several more hours of carousing, N'arlins style, everyone headed home. Except for me - I headed home with the LSJUMB. For several hours I drank and caroused and chatted with them; and I watched them inhale enough nitrous oxide to fill the Rose Bowl with whipped cream. I had a great time. I got home and to bed at about 8:00 AM.
The next day, their Women's Basketball Team lost in one semi-final game, and ours won in the other. (Our team didn't get the national championship - they lost in the final round to Tennessee, which was starting to fucking get old.) The Pep Band passed the Stanford Band between rounds and said hi and goodbye. A year later, we would meet again, on the same floor, when our two Women's Teams would play eachother in the Final Four in Los Angeles.
