A week later, we went to nationals, a contest so highly prestigious and respected that they held it in none other than an empty warehouse in West Lafayette, Indiana. We went in with as much confidence as ten virgins hot off a stunning upset victory can muster in a situation like this—and, as you would probably suspect, got utterly and horrendously destroyed. Good ol’ Burger Machine just couldn’t survive the bumpy two-hour bus ride from Chicago to West Lafayette, and lost her magic. Besides, it was bound to happen when you pit a Chicago public school (from the suburbs, but still) against a bunch of high schools with words like “institute” in their names. We didn’t have a chance.

But the week in between our victory and loss was a fantastic one. Yes, it was the nerdiest accomplishment possible. And no, we didn’t get a pep rally or anything. But still, victory validated our dweeby existences, and gave me even more fuel to continue my nerdy conquests.

Later that same year, still fueled by Rube Goldberg glory, the Science Club entered the Chicago South Suburban Science Invitational, a regional competition of veritable geeks in all areas of science from all over Chicagoland. It was generally less nerdy than it sounds. There were contests for the strongest Popsicle-stick bridge, the lightest paper airplane, and the farthest-traveling mousetrap-powered vehicle. Our school entered students in every category for the broadest possible chance at victory. My category? Insect identification.