The Grand Galloping Gala is always awful. It’s worse for some ponies than others.

In the palace in Canterlot, there was a great dance hall. The floor was patterned with huge, purple tinted checkered tile topped with red carpets. The ground shone like the opulent jewelry the aristocrats at the gala wore. Expensive vases housed towering plants, highlighting their innumerable blooms. Windows three stories high looked out upon the purple gradience of night. Others were blocked from view by gold-lined silk hangings. Immense stained glass landscapes of all colors lined the hall. The room was circled by segmented stone pillars, marbled with cloudy white swirls. A grand statue of an alicorn crafted of magically reinforced white gold stood precariously upon a gold and black pedestal. Even the most extravagant of ponies couldn't help but gasp in awe as they entered.

In the front of it all, opposite the main entranceway, was a raised stage upon which twenty royal guardsmen could stand comfortably. Behind it, two panes of stained glass portrayed celestial objects in all shades and tints of blue. Curtains as tall as the hall itself were pulled back to show the beautiful architecture, but also to frame the four musicians fortunate enough to earn the chance to perform on the night of the gala.

On stage right was the official group leader on the piano, Professor Frederic Horseshoepin. His striking green eyes were the only pair to be open for most of the performance, giving a look of confidence as he embraced the simplicity of the Gala's background music. His confidence extended to his appearance, as his light tan coiffure refused to budge as he swayed side to side with the music. His playing position prominently displayed his cutie mark of white and black eighth notes.

Two of the other talented performers carried themselves with a similar self-possession, their eyes closed as they serenaded the audience. They stood as evidence that earth ponies could be successful musicians, although Octavia Philharmonica was the only one to actually stand as she handled her contrabello with little apparent effort. Her cutie mark, a purple treble clef, justified her assured demeanour as she played. Sharing a similar tone of orchestral decorum, Harpo Parish Nadermane's deep purple hooves plucked the golden harp before him, his eyes occasionally opening to reveal a less striking shade of dulled lime green. His mark was a lyre, visible as he sat on a low stool.

Every element of the display was meant to inspire thoughts of elegance. Octavia's tail fell all the way to the ground in a ceremonious matter, retaining its perfectly straight form. Nadermane's harp was made of gold etched with decorative nothings and purple silk. Even the stool which Horseshoepin sat on was elegant, the rim of the cushion lined with some indiscernible kind of gem. Octavia's contrabello was beautiful in its simplicity alone, before accounting for its gloriously crafted f-holes and striking tailpiece. Even the colors of the ponies blended with the stained glass to be neutral to the greater tone of the room.

Somehow in the midst of this elegance stood Bluenote Brass.

The casual observer might not even have noticed Bluenote's presence because she seemed estranged from the other musicians. She stood on all four hooves unlike the rest of the band, a tinny yellow sousaphone (named after the great march composer John Filly Sousa) wrapped rather tightly around her sky blue body. The large brass instrument hid her flank from the audience, leaving her cutie mark wholly indiscernible. She bounced upwards noticeably on each beat she played, her well-combed brown mane jumping along while maintaining its shape. This sort of technique would normally be frowned upon, but it made no difference. Bluenote's tone stayed consistent and underneath the other pieces of the band. Anypony carrying out a casual conversation in the hall would likely hear a piano and a cello, maybe a harp. The low, mellow root notes were nearly invisible in the gala's simple chords which were designed to fade into the background.

With neither fame nor applause to gain from this performance, Bluenote simply embraced the opportunity to be a part of everypony's big night at the gala. Further, she welcomed the chance to play mere feet away from the esteemed Octavia, who could surely hear everything Ms. Brass was doing right or wrong. The sousaphonist wished for a chance to have a proper musical discourse with the contrabellist, but strict rules of behavior were enforced with the threat of losing all credibility as a musician. Such conversation would have to wait. The two played facing each other, all eyes closed in musical harmony.

***

It was about one hour into the set of orchestral combo standards when a pink pony literally hopped into the room, wearing a costume with elements of exaggerated baker's and confectioner's costumes. She would barely have been able to pass by as a Canterlot pony if she were to keep her hooves still in her childish socks. It became patently obvious that this pony had no idea where she was when she began a jump down the red carpet, singing a filly's folktune. The true musicians in the room would have been content to continue their set of classics and ignore the foalish behavior if the pink one didn't slide onto the stage between Nadermane and Bluenote.

The both of them lost their concentration in shock. Nadermane's irises seemed to shrink as he nearly fell off of his stool. Bluenote accidentally expelled the rest of the air from her lungs, causing a sudden, loud, and high-pitched utterance to come from the least expensive instrument in the room. Missing only a beat, she threw herself back into the music's time. Though her eyes were closed as they were before, she could feel the stares of dozens of sophisticated individuals. She had caused an interruption in the so far perfect concert, and she feared that the gala planner might use his influence in the musical world to assure that she would never have a good job again. Bluenote didn't take notice that the pink pony managed to jump into the grand piano and teleport back to the main floor. She did, however, take note of Professor Horseshoepin's subtle musical cues that signaled a grand pause of the music in just a few measures. The group stopped in time to see the entire hall focused on Pinkie’s abomination of song, and a good five seconds of silence followed.

Slowly, a murmur of disapproval came from the crowd. Finally, there was a moment when the band was not engrossed in music. Bluenote allowed her embouchure to loosen and took her mouth off of the instrument. Octavia was appalled by the events and slumped with the sad knowledge that tonight’s performance would forever be imperfect. Depression aside, Bluenote took this as the perfect opportunity to begin conversation with her colleague. “So Oc-“

"From rehearsal D, no pick up." The pianist’s frank instructions struck Bluenote like a dagger. Leaving no more time to talk, Frederic played off three ascending notes, and the band was once again in unity.

***

Some five minutes later, the group was once again fully composed, ready to finish their last song of the first "act" and then retire for a time into the crowd.  Before a coda could be reached, Bluenote heard the piano halt its playing, and the contrabello soon after. She was just taking another breath when she heard whispering to the left of her. She opened her eyes to see the same mischievous pink mare hanging upside down.

"Hey, do you guys know how to play the Pony Pokey? 'Cause there's nothing like the Pony Pokey to turn a party into a super-fun-errific party!" The musicians glanced back and forth, incredulous at the intrusion. Bluenote sighed into her instrument, making a series of off-colour notes that punctuated her exasperation. Horseshoepin stared at the ground, obviously feeling guilty about the prank he pulled on the pink pony earlier. With small twitches of his hoof, he signalled the appropriate tempo, earning glares of disapproval from Octavia and Nadermane. The invader moved over to a stage microphone, addressing the crowd with an impossible lack of formality.

Again without any proper chance to communicate, a signal was given by Pinkie to the band to start playing, and their communal internal metronome guided them well through the song. Apparently, all of the musicians had in mind the same four piece arrangement of the foalish tune. Nopony was sure what rules of decorum still applied when the vocalist was singing about the forward, backward, and shaking movement of hooves, so the instrumentalists gave their music full attention. Looking out to the crowd would probably show the most confused expressions ever imagined.

***

By the end of the tune, Octavia and her contrabello both lay on the ground unceremoniously, the gray pony nearly catatonic as she gaped at a visible scratch on her instrument. Bluenote had enough of hiding herself from the audience reaction, and stood up on her hind legs to examine the scene with large purple eyes. The crowd was angered by the tone shift of the party, and the idle chatter of unimportant banter had stopped completely. Nadermane also stopped playing, leaving only a spirited piano accompaniment with which the pink lunatic could finish. Octavia gathered herself, clearly more worried about her instrument than her body. Harpo helped with carrying the contrabello off the stage.

"Young lady! This is not that kind of party!" A haughty voice was the last thing the four musicians heard as they rushed off of the stage.