It has begun.
Where were you last Friday at 5 p.m.?
I don’t care. I was doing Trivia Weekend. The single most important holiday of the year.
If you’re a regular reader of my blurg, you know that this is the thing thing I do not miss. It is 50 straight hours of nonstop trivia fueled by caffeine, booze, and cheeseballs with the greatest friends a guy could ask for.
The question I get asked most often is: why?
Why take off the busiest tipping holiday in hospitality history, abandon your girlfriend over Valentine’s Day weekend, drive 5 hours, gorge yourself on delivery pizza, pop tarts and more Yellow #5 than it takes to make the Big Bird costume, then submit to voluntary sleep deprivation in hopes of maybe landing 30th place in a competition where an impossible top spot earns you a weird urn and bragging rights that would take too long to explain in casual conversation?
I wonder this myself every year. Usually around 3:30 Saturday morning when I’m cracking a Monster energy drink, stuffing my face with a slice of Pizza Hut that I’m not even hungry for. What the hell am I doing here?
But it always passes quickly. Those second guesses are trivial. “Partial” at best.
It’s the Transformer I buy every year to keep my laptop company.
It’s the view.
It’s the shot every 5th hour whether we need it or not.
And usually it’s a ‘not’ situation, but whatever.
It’s the memes, graphics, and images that we create.
Stuff that’s only funny to our team. For a temporal blip on a non-existent radar.
Seriously, the idea that THIS was relevant at some point should haunt my dreams.
It’s not often our team gets a new member, but this year we did in the form of Kell’s girlfriend, Kate. I found myself watching Trivia Weekend through her eyes. It was very interesting. While she was a
good great sport about it, and contributed answers of her own in between keeping us well-fed, I could tell she also thought we were kind of insane.
It made me realize all the things we Trivia Weekend veterans and repeat offenders rationalize. Justify. The why‘s we seem to ignore. I guess it is kind of weird to get a blanket, fall asleep at your keyboard, and come to when a radio DJ asks a question that you think you might know. I guess it is sort of weird to order a pizza an hour after dinner. I guess it is technically bizarre to buy things off Ebay just because it’ll help you get an answer.
I guess it is weird to do a “wine bomb.”
But these things–this is why we do Trivia. This is why no matter how much we grow up, this weekend calls us back year after year. This is why every year I bring a giant book that I never, ever use to Trivia Weekend every year. Because one time a girl who now lives in Ireland told me I had to. And why I’ll never, ever leave it at home.
It’s that fine line between superstition and tradition. That misty gray area between insanity and having a good time. It’s because for one unbelievable, indescribable weekend there’s no such thing as time. Nobody ages. The only bad decisions are not calling in a guess. And because for 50 glorious hours I’m not worried about paying rent, serving drinks, calories, or the future. I’m just sitting in a living room with my best friends, suspended from time and space, talking about butt-chugging fatalities and an album cover from 1978.
If this is insanity, write a thesis about it. But don’t ever, ever take away my Trivia Weekend.