Only the coolest kids (and chaperones) attend band trips

What better way to spend a Saturday than to stuff oneself on a packed-full-of-7th-and-8th-grade students bus for an all-day trip to the local amusement park? I can't think of anything else I'd rather do (especially given that I've spent the bulk of two pain-filled weeks getting poked, prodded and patched by a dentist with a penchant for medieval orthodontia appliances). Actually, the kids were amazing. I won't count having to listen to an extremely monosyllabic version of the "Frozen" soundtrack behind me on the ride home..."Is musicality a requirement to be a member of the band," I asked Jason, our stalwart and apparently hard-of-hearing band director. "Huh?" he muttered, eyes glued to the road, willing himself home.

Friends and fellow chaperones, Amy White and Amanda hit the ground running the minute we reached the park, heading for the roller coaster with the most-death-defying vertical drop known to mankind  (as long as mankind doesn't venture too far left of Wyoming County). With nerves of steel, I fearlessly boarded this spine-chilling death device and we rattled our way to the top. I endured this experience with silent grace and dignity while Amanda emitted enough shrieks and gasps to realistically resemble a blue movie production. I felt sorry for her...her lack of self-control, self-respect. I thought she was going to hyperventilate as we neared the climatic ending of the ride. The photographic evidence must be humiliating for her.

It didn't get much better as we attempted a somewhat tamer ride:  The Big Wheel. "Amy, take a selfie of us," I demanded while Amanda questioned the grammatical correctness of the term. It is an interesting conundrum. Self is singular. Should it be selvies? Either way, Amy White enthusiastically threw herself down onto the floor of our ferris wheel car and then froze in fear and disgust as Amanda began listing all of the probable items that have been spilled and smeared into the iron grill on this day alone. "Remember the little girl and the stream of pee who passed us while we were waiting in line," Amanda reminded us helpfully.

 Obviously, we needed to take it down a notch. "Look," Jason exclaimed, "this one is rated as mildly thrilling." Well, you can't get much better than that! Amanda took one look at our target ride and ran away. Our administrator claimed that he was contractually obligated to avoid bouncy, single-rider cartoon moose rides and the chorus director immediately volunteered to be our photographer. Our almost-hour-long wait gave us plenty of time to determine our poses. Do we go with the bull-riding arm fling? The hat-backwards gansta-moose? Hands-free? We debated whether or not the hoof clopping noise that each moose emitted detracted from the reality of the experience. We dabbled with the idea of "borrowing" a child to add an air of credibility to our presence in line but decided that even temporary-kidnapping is probably not sanctioned in our own contracts...I should really read my contract, by the way.

I'm not even remotely embarrassed by the fact that we had a bigger audience that most of our pint-sized moose-riding counterparts. I don't regret for a minute that I forced my red-faced colleagues to return my enthusiastic waving as I spotted them from my moose-saddled vantage point. The ride rating is inaccurate. Moose-on-the-Loose is not just mildly thrilling; it's not just moderately thrilling. Moose-on-the-Loose provides maximum thrills and encourages you to yell, at the top of your lungs throughout the ENTIRE ride: Moose...Moose...Moose-on-the-Loose! Further evidence that only the coolest people attend band trips. Amy Mosiman: Continuing to break down stereotypes. Some talk the talk but this girl walks the walk...while riding a cartoon animatronic moose.