I sit in the San Diego Youth Symphony rehearsal room; music stand raised, trumpet out. I instinctively oil my valves as I listen, imperviously, to the reverberation of *way too many instruments playing at once*: the brass, the woodwinds, the pit, the percussion. Cacophony surrounds me. A bass clarinet makes a butchered attempt at a chromatic scale as a lone trumpet makes an impressive run of the Carnival of Venice.

I imagine the chaos of the symphony, during pre-rehearsal warm up, as the chaos of the international system.

I look to the podium awaiting further instruction from the conductor, who appears to be distracted with a delinquent trombone player: “Mr. Bietz, I forgot my slide grease!” cries the delinquent trombone, undergoing obvious trauma.

I didn’t bat an eye. I know that trombones are, by nature, irresponsible. If they’re not picking their nose, they’re forgetting to grease their slides. Even so: they are part of the low brass, the skeleton of the symphony, the foundation upon which the rest of the symphony builds. Their accompaniment brings substance to the music, yet they are still a slave to the percussion. They are the P-5, minus the United States.

I continue to scan the room and my eyes stop on a cluster of orderly looking blonde girls huddled at the front of the room, directly in front of the conductor’s podium. The perfectly-ironed pleats of their Abercrombie skirts indicate them as the flute section. Their skinny fingers elastically stretch to reach the pedals as they warm-up with their favorite arpeggios: all kinds of arpeggios!  As the most passive of the instruments, and easily the least confrontational toward other sections (though inner-sectional disputes, often catty in nature, are a fairly frequent occurrence), they are Switzerland.

Stage left, to the left of the conductor, a group of motionless Asians (clad in formal slacks and preppy collared shirts) sit motionless, with their clarinets upright on top of their knees in a flawless rest position. The token studious white girl, who arrives five minutes late every rehearsal, scoots her way through five rows toward her chair, trying in vain to escape the judging scowls of her fellow section-mates. After she sits, they divert their gaze; all eyes are fixated on the podium. These are the clarinets.

The clarinets, known for their uniformity in chorus as well as their great investment in traditional musical styles, represent the Southeast Asian block. The principal chair is Japan, while last chair – less developed, more temperamental, and desperate for acceptance – is North Korea. Every so often the latter rebel will display his irreverence for the rest of the ensemble through calculated (and sometimes not-so-calculated) reed squeaks.

Directly in front of me sit the saxophones. I watch as the principal player, a Latino jock with biceps larger than last chair’s entire head, flexes his overdeveloped, tattooed arms and winks seductively at his target in the flute section. She giggles and quickly looks away, abashed by Francisco’s forwardness. Embodying everything that is sexy, artistic, and creative, saxophones are the instrumental equivalent to the Latin American block.

And now, the trumpets: a section awash with contradiction. As the happy occupants of the furthest row from the conductor (and therefore furthest from the audience), male trumpets especially embrace this role as it demands volume. Male trumpets are known for their overbearing personalities, while female trumpets are known for their feminist tendencies: this makes for very interesting inner-sectional conflict. Fiery and aggressive, trumpets have managed to somehow achieve a balance between the qualities of “immense passion” and “below average emotional intelligence.” Trumpets, without a doubt, are the Ireland of the ensemble.

Last but not least (definitely not least, or else the bass drum will have my eyes gouged out), are the percussion and pit. Best known for its loud blondes and overcompensating men, the percussion section has perhaps the most crucial role in the symphony. They represent the pulse- providing the rhythm to which all other instruments play- that keeps the sections together, the song on  count, and the music alive. If that pulse dies, the entire ensemble effectively goes into cardiac arrest as each wind section fails, losing its place in the song one after another. Percussion is, indisputably, the United States. And we’ll call pit Canada.

A voice breaks through the pandemonic noise of the ensemble, as the conductor steps up to the podium with his baton: “Did everyone have a good break?” “Yes, Mr. Bietz!” everyone replies in unison.

Suddenly, the rehearsal room transforms into the United Nations headquarters.

I watch the presiding President of the General Assembly speak to the room full of delegates. Each delegate represents the interests of his country of origin, but most are willing to compromise on certain issues if it means they’ll get their way on more important issues. To do this, each section must form coalitions and play according to the UN procedures and protocol.

‘Please take out “Night on Bald Mountain,” by Mussorgsky.” Each delegate flipped through his music portfolio and adjusted accordingly. We’ll call this song representative of the hot issue of overfishing.

I listen as the flutes and clarinets, who replace the orchestral parts usually played by the violins and violas, slowly hum through the first several measures eventually crescendo-ing into conflict with the low brass: “…but we need to fish, because it’s important to our economy!” protests the East Asian block.

On this particular topic, the trumpets join in fanfare and take sides with the low brass: “You are overfishing and depleting the population of endangered species!” Several measures later the saxophones respond to the clarinet choir, reiterating the concern of the low brass.

Ironically, percussion remains neutral throughout the majority of the song.

Coalitions form: initially, Switzerland and East Asia vs. everyone else. General debate inspires escalating conflict between delegates which eventually evolves into a mass undressing of the East Asian block by the rest of the assembly. Substantive debate ushers in the closing of the song as Switzerland betrays the cause and the United States kills the vote with a decidedly final “boom” of the bass drum.