Don't Play Trivia with Jerry and His IPA-Fueled Crew

Dear Uncle Bobby –

My neighbor keeps inviting me to their Wednesday night trivia team at the local brewery. They call it “Brain Night,” but it’s mostly just them yelling over each other while slamming IPAs and arguing about which Ninja Turtle was the smart one. I love trivia, but this sounds like chaos with bar tabs. Should I join or fake a recurring allergy to barstools?

Darla Dewittled

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Ah yes, trivia night – that magical middle-of-the-week moment when otherwise functional adults regress into college freshmen who think yelling “Mozart!” counts as strategy.

Now look, I get the appeal. Beer, brain cells, and a chance to feel superior because you remembered the capital of Uzbekistan. But joining that crew? That’s not trivia, sugar – that’s group therapy for competitive extroverts with a wireless mic and something to prove.

Let me paint you a picture: It’s hour two. You’re six questions deep into a round called “Presidents Who Had Weird Pets,” and Jerry from accounting is still red-faced about misspelling “Taft.” Meanwhile, Tiffany’s on her fourth sour ale and insisting that “Einstein invented the saxophone.” You want fun? This ain’t Jeopardy – it’s intellectual dodgeball with snacks.

Now sure, the less adventurous option is to stay home, do the crossword, and yell the answers at your cat like a civilized human being. But if you must go, bring noise-canceling headphones and a fake name. Tell them you’re “Gregory, the Trivia Mercenary” – no backstory, no questions. Just answers and nachos.

Bottom line? Trivia should be fun, not a cage match with coasters. If you want midweek excitement, try not buying something on Amazon for 24 hours. That’s real self-control.

Now get back out there, champ – and remember: Donatello was the smart one. But we both knew that.