Before I was a snarky Cardinal kid, I had a slightly different M.O. In high school, I was all about nerdy competitions: Model United Nations, mock Jacksonian-era debates and Academic Challenge. The Academic Challenge team (hereafter referred to as Ac-Chal) was like Mathletes from “Mean Girls,” except it covered a range of studies, and, let’s face it, I would never make it in a competition based on math skills. Our team was so boss it placed third in the national championships. By “our team” I mean the A-team, which I was not even remotely qualified for. No, I was on the B-team, living in the shadow of A-team’s glory.
Still, with all of its delightful geekiness, shining moments of success and crushing defeats, I cherish my time in Ac-Chal. I have wanted to check out UW’s Quiz Bowl team for a while now, but I always found reasons to not go: too much work at the paper, stubbed toe, nap time, etc. In all honesty, it was because I was intimidated.
But intimidation be damned, this week I found my way to the Quiz Bowl lair at the top of Memorial Union. Like the thoughtful, polite young lady I am, I barged in 30 minutes late saying something along the lines of, “Oh hai dudes, you mind if I try this out and write a silly column about it?” The reaction was, surprisingly, not one of disdain. They were incredibly welcoming, and the only female member exclaimed, “ANOTHER GIRL!” I had made it back to the mothership.
However, I was out of practice. I mean really, really rusty. I had forgotten much of the trivia I had crammed into my head during the years of Ac-Chal, and I also was uncomfortable with the whole “buzzing” thing. It takes a lot of courage and self-assuredness to buzz in and likely make a fool of yourself. Needless to say, for the first 20 or so questions, I did not say a word. I was not so much trying out Quiz Bowl as I was creeping all over it.
Then, finally, my moment came. The question asked to identify a song in an opera based on a poem with a line that goes, “There’s a’nothing can harm you,” and I slammed my hand on the desk and screamed, “IT’S SUMMERTIME! IT’S SUMMERTIME!” Cue awkward pause. “Sorry, guys.” They assured me it was fine, though they looked awfully concerned.
I got maybe one more question correct before the end of the round, so I had to prove myself somehow. “I can read off the questions,” I offered. OK, I may not be a trivia wiz kid, but I can read, right? I crossed that bridge 17 years ago, so this should have been cake. Well, kind of. Some of the terms in these questions tripped me up, i.e. all things foreign, scientific and mathematic. So instead of having the suave and sultry tone of a 1970s voice-over artist selling soap, as I often imagine I do, I sounded like a pre-schooler sounding out “See Spot Run” for the first time. Cy-to-kenis-whaaat?
Then came my last chance for redemption: trash round. Trash, I thought, was my kind of bag. “This is just a series of pop culture questions,” I said to myself. “I shall RULE.” It turned out the round was more of a “I shall be the disgruntled low-level bureaucrat” type of situation. I got a few here and there, and I felt a twinge of simultaneous pride and shame when I correctly answered the question referencing Mandy Moore’s “Chasing Liberty.” Success?
All-in-all, I greatly enjoyed my time with the Quiz Bowl crew. They are brilliant and gracious and not condescending in the slightest. All I am saying is if I knew every work of Charles Dickens or the complexities of theoretical physics, I would probably be a total dick about it. They are going off to compete soon, and as much as I would like to be apart of it, I do not think my B-team brain and I would be of much help. What I can do is support them from the sidelines. Hell, call me a Quiz Bowl fangirl.
