Battle of the Fact Geeks

They mixed pop-culture references with historical minutiae and scientific ephemera; a challenge about the Warren Commission was followed by another about Liv Tyler, and still another about the flag of Cyprus. And Guy Smiley gave us only about thirty seconds to answer each question before he called out the next. At question six, NYU girl looked at me and raised her palms in defeat. She tilted her head toward the Birkenstocks, who had been scrawling away without any further input from either of us.

“They don’t need us anyway,” she said.

Question seven, though, was something I knew I had the answer to. Guy had asked us to name “a thick, spicy stew, often made with crayfish and traditional to New Orleans.”

“It’s gumbo!” I hissed to the Birkenstocks, barely able to keep my voice down. “I’ve been to New Orleans! I’m sure of it!”

For the first time all evening, the Birkenstocks turned and studied me. I realized, with minor amazement, that they weren’t sure of the answer themselves.

“You’re positive?” Mr. Birkenstock whispered through his wispy mustache. “Not étouffée or jambalaya?”

“I’m positive,” I affirmed, suddenly feeling less certain. Ms. Birkenstock nodded and wrote it down on her sheet. I signaled the bartender for another beer.

Once the answer sheets were collected, we waited ten nervous minutes while Guy Smiley and an assistant reviewed them. Guy had reminded us that the winning team would get $200 in cash—an announcement that made the Birkenstocks wiggle with glee. The second-place prize—a bag of Pepperidge Farm cookies—didn’t elicit much excitement.

Finally, Guy approached the microphone.

“Okay, boys and girls—we have a winning team!” he shouted. “But first, we’ll go through the correct answers to all ten questions.

“Question number one,” he continued, “was: From what historic text does the following phrase come? ‘Beware of Greeks bearing gifts’?” The answer is: The Iliad.”

Cheers and moans erupted around the room. The girl who’d hidden the cover of her book from me pumped her fist in the air. The Birkenstocks pogoed in their hefty shoes. They got more and more worked up as Guy continued reading answers; they’d nailed numbers two, three, four, five, and six.

“Number seven!” Guy called out. “The thick, spicy stew, often made with crayfish and traditional to New Orleans, is…étouffée!”

More hoots and wails ensued. The Birkenstocks stiffened next to me. I couldn’t even look at them, but I could feel their hate radiating at me.

“I’m sorry,” I mumbled, and drained my beer. Then I turned to put on my coat.

“Hey, don’t go!” NYU girl pleaded, grabbing my elbow. “We’re still doing good! We might have won the cookies!”

But I couldn’t bear to stay. I, a seasoned triviaphile, had lost the game for my illustrious team. My family would be horrified.

“Um, see you next week?” NYU girl called, as I hustled for the door of the bar.

Not next week, I thought to myself, as I walked to the subway. But I already knew I’d be back. First, though, some serious prep work was in order. What had that girl with glasses been reading?