BRIC-A-BRAC: Put That Useless Knowledge to Good Use

John Glynn has been begging me to join Pub Quiz for almost a year. So naturally, I finally went on the night he didn't need me.

I somehow imagined that Pub Quiz was just one of those things a bar would to do draw customers on a Tuesday night. And it is that. But it's so much more. This thing is serious. There are special pre-printed forms. There's a website. When they show you photos of celebrities, they have photo credits on the side. This is no run-of-the-mill bar game. This is Serious Business.

I initially turned John down for a couple very good reasons. For one thing, I never had Tuesdays free. Either Clair and I had an appointment to keep, or I was rehearsing for my sketch show, or I was appearing in my sketch show...always something. The other reason is, frankly, I don't enjoy hanging out in bars.

But earlier in the day, John had posted to the Chicago improv bulletin board, and he was once calling out to the community to join in the trivial fun. And my Tuesday night was free, and I didn't know when that was going to happen again. And for once, I decided, I wasn't going to let John down.

"Why didn't you tell me you were coming?" John sighed, understandably peeved.

"I didn't know."

He wasn't happy about it, but he offered my services to a charming young lass named Jen Messner, who earned the right (by virtue of paying the entry fee with a $50 bill) to called our team "Mommy Warbuxxx." The x's are key. It was Jen, myself, her chum Len, and his pal Andre. I knew Jen by reputation, but beyond that, I knew nothing about my team. So glory was clearly just around the corner.

If you find yourself in Pub Quiz, prepare yourself, because it's cutthroat. There are seven rounds of questions, for crying out loud. We had three rounds of general knowledge, a round of match-the-gory-movie death, a round of name-the-celebrity-in-the-picture (hence the photo credits), one round of "goodbye" related questions, and one of "sorry" questions. Brutal, I'm telling you. Know any of Robert Scott's companions to the South Pole right off the top of your head? Neither did anyone at the Hidden Shamrock.

I won't bore you with play-by-play, except for these highlights:
- Andre identified Dan Rather as the author of a quote about apologizing for using bad documents at the last possible second. Brilliant save.
- Len didn't even blink in labeling a photo of Lindsay Davenport.
- Jen insisted the picture was Anne Heche. I thought Laura Linney, but didn't feel strongly enough to argue. Good move. Celestia, it was.
- The marathoner who stopped in the middle of the London Marathon to relieve herself, went on to win the race, and apologized to the country afterwards was Paula Radcliffe. And I don't have any idea why I know that.

We ended up finishing second, having blown the tiebreaker that we weaseled our way into. That meant we made back our entry fee, plus a few extra bucks. (I did, anyway. I think the bar makes money off the competitors who drink. Which would be everyone else.) So fun was had by all.

Except for John, who was perturbed. For which I'm sorry.