I think this is somewhat happier, .Terra.
I see everyone file into the room, finding their friends and taking a seat.
I see our director take the mic, and shuffle through papers to begin his speech.
I think that this is it, we're in the home stretch.
I hear our director starting his speech, losing his place, and cracking a joke.
I hear the familiar laughter of my fellow band members, and the familiar giggling silence that follows.
I think that this has the potential to be incredibly boring, or incredibly interesting, or maybe somewhere in between.
I touch the fake wooden arm rest, and pick at the seat number that's once again falling off.
I touch my friend's leg, since she keeps kicking me, albeit she doesn't mean to.
I believe that we're going to .Spain, and we'll have the time of our lives.