About 49 miles from the bustling hub of Atlanta, there is a small yet prideful learning institution, Central High School. With its well-worn red brick and rounded edges, it connects to the community of Carrollton in a way not frequently seen, as nowadays, people are too busy too step back from their responsibilities and get involved outside of their little bubble. Further into its walls lies a wondrous haven of musical magic ‒ the band room. Seemingly enormous, the matte gold, silver, and burnt maroon sound tiles along the walls provide a safe cocoon of sound to be contained and spread in the best way possible, while the soft carpeted floor makes for a cottony feel on the aching feet of students coming back in from a tiring marching band practice. A gray, medium-sized podium rests in the middle of the room, waiting for an enthusiastic Mr. Ruby to take his place, raise his ivory baton, and conduct the first murmuring note of the ensemble. The attitude of those walking in depends on the particular day and even the particular season wreaking havoc outside. In the deep tresses of fall, on crisp Friday nights, the room is constantly abuzz with excitement radiating off of the marchers, whether it be from the wave of buttery popcorn and fresh Chick-fil-A wafting in from the concession stands, the comforting feeling of the smooth black bibbers snug on all of their waists, or the simple yet exhilarating rush of adrenaline in preparation for the madness soon to occur on the field of Roy Richards Memorial Stadium, not to mention their constant low stream of chatter for the next victim of the Lion Pride Football Team. Even the staff become exhilarated as the bright white floodlights beam onto the field on the backside of campus, and the crowd readies themselves with large gulps of air and southern-tinged yells in the shiny metal stands for the upcoming show of pride and strength.