This one time…

I was in an experimental jazz band called James, Yellow, and Brown. I played drums and keys. Justin, the brains, played guitar, bass, and vocals. It was just us. He had the talent; I was there. We played only two gigs: one on campus, and one underground, literally in someone's basement. We were back-to-back with punk rock kids. Imagine staring at a dude in a spiked collar with a "John Wayne was a Nazi" shirt, getting ready to play some gentle, experimental… jazz.

It actually went OK.

There's something very punk rock about playing music you're certain no one wants to hear, and I think the punk kids appreciated us doing exactly that.

I only dropped my drumstick twice. That was our last gig.

Note: I've been practice and playing drums semi-seriously now for a few years now. I still drop my drumsticks all the time.