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| - It was the best of times, for I was surrounded by my friends.
It was the worst of times, for I was unable to eat solid food the next day.
It was the age of wisdom, for we were at the conference to be enlightened by our fellows.
It was the age of foolishness, for we drank 5 bottles of Veuve.
It was the epoch of belief, for we were confident in the correctness of our decision to drink until 3 a.m.
It was the epoch of incredulity, because, cmon, we REALLY drank 5 bottles of Veuve? Yikes!
It was the season of Light, for it is in the Valley of the Sun and I played golf twice and only got burned a little.
It was the season of Darkness, because after drinking Veuve until 3 a.m., you need a dark room in which to consider what you have done.
It was the spring of hope, for April is spring, and we were hopeful that the party would go well.
It was the winter of despair, for after 3 short days, we all headed our own ways, our paths not to cross again for many months.
We had everything before us, for we are kinda young, mostly awesome, and totally brilliant.
We had nothing before us, for we stripped to our skivvies to sit in a private hot tub at 2 a.m.
We were all going direct to heaven, and our present setting was a reasonable approximation of that destination.
We were all going direct the other way, because, really, sitting in a coed hot tub in your skivvies?
In short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only. And the experience always has been, and was, and will be, so superlative that there is little other way to describe the experience except by relation to the others.
These are my friends. That I have such friends paints a better picture of me than I could ever hope for. That I get to see them so seldom paints a bleaker picture than I would choose. Almost, one might say, a Dickensian picture. I hope he will forgive me for this.
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