Amid the riotous crowd and old west style aerial shot charisma, we ran with half empty champagne glasses. We ran and splashed the bubbly and dodged bullets, and flying fists, and swinging bats; while holding hands and smiling: in love. Then she tripped, and I let go. The anarchy engulfed her to her dying breath. I cried out into the dark night “Why didn’t I view the champagne glasses as half full.”