I would pay every penny I have, plus all my student loan and all my wages for the next however many years if somebody could build me a time machine and a teleportation device.
It actually hurts to think I'm pretty much definitely never going to go there, in that era anyway. And when I think about how it's possible to go there, it hurts almost on equal levels.
It seems that every few weeks I get this painful blast of sadness over the fact that Milwaukee 1994 is not going to happen. It's a regular thing. It makes me want to scream.
I have got to visit Milwaukee in the next 5 years. I'm going to visit libraries and town halls and other nice places and recreate 1994 in my head.
At least I know that if I ever really need to be sick, like if I swallowed poison or something, I only have to think "Milwaukee 1994" and then vomit, most probably the projectile variety, will certainly happen.