Answer: This letter of the alphabet can bite me.

Question: What is ‘Q’?

It’s last Tuesday,… Answer: This letter of the alphabet can bite me.

Question: What is ‘Q’?

It’s last Tuesday, 11 a.m., and America’s famed quiz show “Jeopardy!” leaves its bus parked at the front of our beloved William Pitt Union. Auditions are held for the selection of the master race, the college students abundantly wealthy with useless trivia and fantastic brainpower. I decide to take my place in this selection — since it’s in the neighborhood and all.

Even at this early hour — early for me, anyway — hordes of like-minded individuals enter the Kurtzman Ballroom and are sorted into a zig-zagging line of metal gates. We are here to take a short test — about 10 questions — that will determine if we are “Jeopardy!” material.

It’s a lot like waiting in line for a thrilling roller coaster. The line winds around in a seemingly endless fashion; my stomach fills with butterflies driving bumper cars, impulses run amok in my brain and my mind races with unnerving thoughts about the unknown, which we are about to enter.

The continuous looping of a song I heard earlier that day plagues my mind, leaving limited ability for me to tap into the useless trivia needed to pass the upcoming exam. If, however, this “Jeopardy!” pre-test asks anything related to the poetry of Afroman, I am set.

A: It’s all we need.

Q: What is Colt 45 and two Zig-Zags?

Obviously not everyone in this room suffers from my form of dementia. Many seem aloof; some chit chat about politics; some peruse class notes; some mentally prepare themselves; one even carries a book of “Jeopardy!” trivia questions.

We are an assorted people united by a common love of academic games, and at this point in time we’re all riding the crest of a brilliant wave of nervous energy and potential excitement.

Between the waiting room and the examination room, a local news channel captures sound and video clips from potential contestants. A funny thing happens. These people, the very same people hoping to achieve a spot on a high-rating national television show, suddenly become camera shy. The TV crew glances over me, though — just too handsome for the camera I guess.

Finally I enter the examination room. Now the brain sparks really start to fly.

The quiz goes much better than expected, though there are still pitfalls. One question asks which ocean is the largest after the Pacific and Atlantic, and I think, “Do they refer to volume or surface area?” It says at the top of the test that answers need not be formed into questions, but can they be questioned in the form of answers?

I complete my test, despite the loud background noise, and hand it to a man behind the table, who pulls out a black marker and makes a lot of scribbles. “I’m sorry,” he says. That’s all I had to hear.

I’m now confident the last question sealed my fate. It was under the category of “Words that begin with the letter ‘Q’,” and asked for an adjective that describes a feeling of uneasiness. My favorite ‘Q’ word, “quagmire,” proved incorrect, and now I can only assume the proper response was “qualm.”

Many sad faces left the quiz table, which cements my theory that all the learning you do in college is a waste of time — at least in Merv Griffin’s America.

As I take the walk of shame, Afroman reminds me that all is not lost.

A: The reason Kurt did not qualify for Jeopardy!

Q: Is it “because I got high”?

Kurt Esenwein is a columnist who has never really been high. E-mail him at [email protected].