It was as if we were all in an airplane sitting on the runway and everyone on board was getting high waiting for the airplane to take off. We were high on the Summer of Love, the end of the war, the hope of a better world. The revolution and the birth of our consciences filled our hearts with vision. But when we looked out the window, all we could see was the smoke that billowed forth from our water pipes. We thought we were flying high, man; we thought we had taken off, but as the smoke cleared and we looked out the window, there we were, still on the ground. Then as we filed off the plane, we found ourselves right where we had started all those years ago; a little grayer, a lot sadder, and airsick on top of it all.