Complicated
but not really...
I actually made my jazz band director have a heart attack halfway through my senior year. We were having a saxophone sectional, rehearsing a solo in a song called Cruzin' for a Bluesin'. Idiotic name aside, it's rather fun and for the average high school saxophonist, rather difficult. While it's supposed to be played extremely fast, at about 280bpm, our director didn't seem to think it was meant to be over 200, which I found insultingly slow. I said as much. 🙂
When he disagreed, I went into another room to grab the Maynard Fergusen cd upon which the original performers took it at ~280. From the office area, I heard him telling the rest of the section, under his breath, that I didn't know what the f*ck I was talking about, and that he's sick of my "arrogant-ass attitude." Getting rather miffed, I popped the cd into the stereo, played a bit of the blisteringly fast track, and then proceeded to tell him just what I thought of him - that I don't appreciate how he was late every day, or that his breath sometimes stunk of beer, or that he swore at us, calling us losers, or his hypocrisy in that he would often leave instructions for my "arrogant ass" to conduct the ensemble for the substitute (who wouldn't know a thing about music) during his frequent absences.
During all of it, he got progressively redder, until he turned around, walked into his office, sat down, and slumped over. Luckily, the choir director was in there, and he promptly called the "school response team" and an ambulance. For the rest of the semester, jazz band was directed by the head of the music department, and someone new took the position the next fall. Mr. ________ retired.
Sorry, that was long.