Must come to end, and so it was with my trip to California.
As those of you who have watched me the last few nights already know, I was unable to defend my Jeopardy championship tonight. It was a tough, hard-fought game, and my downfall came in Final Jeopardy when I was unable to identify the only novel by poet Sylvia Plath…who, like me, was an alumna of Smith College.
To say that I will never, ever live this down at Ivy Day is but a statement of fact.
Weirdly enough, I wasn’t disappointed for more than a minute or two. I lost fair and square, to someone who outplayed me in Final Jeopardy, and I was happy to turn to him and shake his hand to congratulate him for an excellent game. The producers and staff of the show were nothing but kind to me, and even Alex Trebek was sorry to see me go. It was the experience of a lifetime and I wish it had lasted just a little bit longer.
At the same time, I walked out of the studio into the glorious California sunshine with a spring in my step and a smile on my lips. I’d fulfilled a lifelong dream, had a wonderful time, and had no regrets.
I also picked up what is probably the single tackiest souvenir in my collection, a thing of such stunning silliness that I laughed like a loon when I spotted it at a gift shop at LAX on the way home. “I must have this!” I cried, and it’s now in a place of honor at the Last Homely Shack East of the Manhan.
As for what precisely this magnificent object is, well, you’ll have to wait until Saturday night, but I promise you: it’s worth the wait.
And as for my brief but memorable time on Jeopardy? As they say on rating sites, “10/10, ++++++, would definitely do again.”
Thank you all for your good wishes and congratulations. They mean the world to me.
Peace,
Ellid