“What islander went to Ellison Bay in his boat and, on the way back, rammed it full throttle into Detroit Island, throwing out every passenger but one–which would have been me?”–X.X.

OK, that wasn’t really one of the Trivia Night questions at Fiddler’s Green last night. But it was the best of some late-night improvisations after we’d run through the official, family-friendly quiz in 15 minutes flat.

Fiddler’s Green, which longtime islander Kate Kaniff opened in January next to the Farm Museum, is an odd island hybrid, more Irish pub than Packers bar. It’s got cushy sofas and wi-fi, panini and plates of hummus, and a big black sweetie of a resident dog. For many it’s a welcome alternative to the rowdy bar strip “uptown” minus the price tag and fine-dining frills of a drink at the hotel–one person I talked to a few weeks ago singled it out as an example of the future of Washington Island: gently boho but with enough island cred to be accepted and not threaten anyone’s sense of place.

Last Tuesday I was in Chicago, but I heard the joint was jumpin’ with an SRO crowd of more than 60 trivia freaks. This week Kate and her sister, Nancy, anticipating a similar crush, enlisted some backup in the form of the hotel sous chef, who gave up his day off to don a pink Fiddler’s Green t-shirt and work the keg-erator. But when I showed up at 8 the three of them were flopped at the bar nursing pints of Guinness and watching a DVD on wildife of the Arctic.

What gives? Who knows. A few customers dribbled in around 9, and at 10 Julian Hagen showed up with a friend (whose name I’ve now spaced, but she had a pretty, folkie voice) to play an impromptu acoustic set. But the evening may be evidence to support a popular theory that, on the island, people can only handle one activity per night. Given that last night was not only Burger Night over at Karly’s but also day two of the Washington Island Music Festival–traditionally the last hurrah before the season comes to a screeching halt August 15–Trivia Night may not have stood a chance.

On the other hand, island social patterns may just be a hopeless mystery. As we were packing it in around 11–the bar having stayed open far past its nominal 10 PM weeknight cutoff for the music–four or five carloads of people suddenly pulled up in a bunch and unloaded. The “open” sign still glowed in the window and you could see Kate quickly evaluating the need for sleep against the $100 that had just walked in the door. They stayed open.