i'm sitting here at starbucks silently at one corner, in half my concert attire. i feel out of place, very out of place. the atmosphere around me pulls me back to my first day of p school. the feeling of being in a place that i don't wanna be, but i know i have to be here. Here i am in almost a tux, with my faithful trombone standing next to me. everyone around is in shorts that makes shorts short. I'm trying not to inhale too deep, the stench of perspiration ain't gonna go away in my head. The collective bushes of underarm hair beats he quota i wanna ever see in my life. I'm dressed nicely in hell, a hell that blocks my nose from anything else other than perspiration, and blinds my eyes with underarm hair. God, please send an army of deodorant angels to liberate me from this place!