Three-quarters of an hour to go. I think we're going to win.
This is extraordinary. This is one of the rare times that the struggle wasn't doomed at the outset that the heroes stood a chance. And maybe, maybe, this is the first time that my side will win.
I should explain that I grew up in Kelowna.
Screw self-actualization through meaning in now-action or whatever. Give me some victory.
This feeling is electric. This is life.
There was a fantastic universal sense that whatever we were doing was right. That we were winning. And that I think was the handle. That sense of inevitable victory over the forces of old and evil. Not in any mean or military sense. We didn’t need that. Our energy would simply prevail. We had all the momentum. We were riding the crest, of a high and beautiful wave. So now, less than five years later, you go up on a steep hill in Las Vegas and look west. And with the right kind of eyes – you can almost see the high watermark – that place where the wave finally broke and rolled back.