Where everybody knows your name...

Thanks to my friend Tom Drew, I spent an hour of this otherwise tedious day reading and rehashing the Debbie Masten debacle. For those unlucky few readers who didn't attend Truman, a few details:

Debbie Masten was the Mayor of Kirksville, but more importantly the owner of Too Talls, Two. Too Talls was, to me, an afterthought of a bar - two whole blocks from the Woody's/Dukum corner of magic. As a freshman, I had a dear friend whose boyfriend (a senior) was always at Too Talls - thus, we hated it. I made my first appearance at the place for a hallowed trivia night in my junior year - or was it senior? Trivia night was born at Too Talls, and it grew to be a fine young tradition over those months. Highlight of my first trivia night? Being the only person in my group to know the name of Wilco's lead singer.

Then, on New Year's Eve 2004, a fire broke out at the bar. The remainder of my senior year, rumors flew that Debbie, owner of Too Talls, had set the fire herself for insurance purposes. These were actually less rumors than certainties held by the old, wise, bar-going circles of Truman students. Trivia night moved to Woody's - the place where everyone knew my name - and so I was happier with the state of things. Debbie Masten became an even-more ridiculous figure than anyone thought possible.

As a matter of fact, after I left Truman, someone else bought Too Talls, Two. This person renamed it - Too Talls: The Inferno. I heard from a friend who still lived in town that the servers all halted what they were doing at midnight to perform dances in firemen's hats. This, I had to see. I next found myself in Kirksville for New Year's Eve, 2005. My friends and I hastened to the scene of the crime. Reports of the dancing? True. A giant projection screen, showing artful music videos like "My Humps?" True. We left after an hour and a ridiculously bad tasting shot special - juice and sucrose, it would seem - to seek haven at Woody's. That was the end of the affair for the Inferno and I.

Then today, I read an article from the Truman State Index (thanks, Tom). Memories came flooding back: the red bowties, the upper-level table for trivia, the time we won the cash bonus because the questions were about John Irving books, the dance contests. Some days, the small town of Kirksville seems laughable, but I know this much: no way could I go to any bar in the world but Woody's, and get charged $5 for a night of gin and tonics strong enough to kill my alcoholic grandfather. I miss that familiarity and rockstar treatment. I definitely miss trivia night - Kansas City has got NOTHING on the boys' trivia. You'd think KC could get the small town flavor down, but no, trivia is all a pretentious exercise in who knows the most obscure BS possible. I miss geography questions, and Simpsons questions, and the challenges between rounds. Sometimes, I miss everybody knowing my name.