Our pub quiz team is regularly humbled, or depending how seriously a team member takes it, humiliated. Technically, our name is Sheik Sheik Djibouti (that's a small country in Africa, by the way, and I don't mention it to be patronizing, truly). I think it evolved since we took on the name, however, and I've noticed "Shake Shake Da Bootie" scrawled on our answer sheets. That works too.
About every other Wednesday, we compete at a downtown tavern against rival teams, such as Trivia Newton John and The Redundancy Department of Redundancy. Until last night, we nearly always placed in the lower third of about ten teams. Often we're tied for last. We've been known to be last. Hate being last. One time we were last and they gave us a prize anyway, "dinner for six". It was a bag of potato chips. I was actually thrilled and Tom enjoyed eating them.
Tom and I maintain that we aren't into sports and we can't be expected to know Australian history / popular culture / politics / geography. This does little to justify why we don't know that the black box on airplanes is actually orange or the five largest cities in the United States by population. My areas of expertise are dogs, Elton John song lyrics, mental illness, truck manufacturing and shoe designers. There are surprisingly few questions in these areas so I generally wait for another person to suggest an answer to the hard ones and then weigh in on whether I think they're right or not. I have a not-too-shabby 50/50 hit ratio with this technique. If nothing else, I help dilute any unintentional team blame when we we're just dead wrong. I contribute. I do.
Anyway, last night we recruited a new team member, an Australian, who knows sports (or "sport" as they call it here). (Yet when you add or subtract, it's "maths". Go figure.) Franco's contribution, paired with our already keenly sharp group, held us in the lead for most of the first five rounds and ultimately tied for third, after a somewhat rocky final round with a music theme. Damn (music trivia savant) Tom's job for sending him to a conference in Canberra. This could have been our night! I had all but spent the first place pub gift certificate in my mind .... mmmm ... lots and lots of fries with fancy sauce. That's when I mix mayo with ketchup. I think it kind of grosses the rest of the team out. At least I don't sort through the communal fries, picking each one up, examining it, then compartmentalizing them by crispness. You'd think we were raised by wolves.
It all came down to Peta (one of our brilliant babes) making a fearless attempt to chug a jug (drink a huge beer) faster than a bloke from the other tied-for-third place team. Chug, and then turn the glass upside down on her head to be exact. It was an impressive effort, and though we eventually landed at fourth, a banner night for the Booties. Peta's hair should be bouncin' and behavin', what with the moisturizing sudsy treatment she got. I learned that a llama is in the camel family, that both Abba and their song "SOS" are palindromes, and that the Hindenburg was en route from the US to Germany when it exploded. Oh the humanity.
It felt good to almost win. Love winning. Go Booties!!!
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