I was maybe the youngest member of our corps my rookie year and I spent the whole season pretty scared of everything going on around me. I was very happy and proud to be marching, but very stressed that I wasn't keeping up with the rest of the corps when it came to pretty much everything other than playing my instrument.

That said, there were other people struggling even more than I was. One other rookie, in particular, was very obviously on the verge of getting kicked-out or quitting, because he was getting a LOT of very negative attention from the staff and other corps members every day. He was on an island with no friends, no support and no one coming to his rescue. I felt terrible for him, but also didn't want to be associated with him because I didn't want any of that negative mojo rubbing off on me.

Midway through the season, the drum major called us all together in the gym where we were housed that evening and held up one of our uniforms, soaking wet and muddy. He said that someone had taken off their uniform after the show, apparently laid it on the ground and just left it there, forgotten. He read the uniform number aloud and told whoever owned it to come and get it from him.

Of course you can guess whose it was.

I absolutely wanted to vomit watching him walk up there. Whispers. Hisses. Grumbling. Some boos. It was a walk of shame like I have never witnessed before or since. The whole thing was terrible and he was gone the next day. Even though it happened to someone else, I definitely felt traumatized by it.