I have lost my voice. I am sunburned. I am exhausted. My bones ache. 

I am at one of the happiest points in my life. 

Friday night, a lifelong dream came true -- I attended the Olympics Opening Ceremonies. 

How does one describe a dream coming true? 

Do I tell you I had trouble taking pictures because tears were in my eyes? 

Do I tell you about laughing and joking everywhere I went with people from other countries who immediately treated me like a friend? Or do I tell you about the elderly couple from Korea who kissed each other and cried in each other's arms when the torch was lit? 

Indeed, how does one describe such an experience? 

Perhaps the best way is to not attempt to do so. I'll let the Olympic Experience describe itself: 

My first vivid memory of the day is of an Asian man, upside-down, howling with glee. He was trying out a high-tech virtual reality flight simulator, where you are strapped inside a giant gyroscope and fitted with headgear. As you "fly" your airplane, the gyroscope turns. When you fly upside down, you're turned upside down. 

When the man finished the ride, he jumped down and began recounting his experience in his native tongue. None of us understood his words, but we knew the excitement he was conveying. Nearby, kids from different countries laughed together at his excitement. 

A man from Mexico was in desperate need of Opening Ceremonies tickets. So he dressed in his country's native garb, complete with a giant sombrero, and stood on a wall. After every sentence, he would yip and yell in rapid succession. "I need tickets! Ya-ya-ya, yip-yip,yip!" 

Here's a real Olympic lesson: drunken people sound alike in all languages. Walking into Opening Ceremonies was a drunken man, hanging on a very sober and very perturbed German fellow. I couldn't understand the drunken man, but the way he was leaning on the guy's shoulder and talking a hair's width from his ear, I'm sure he was saying something like, "I love you man." 

You know that look Mom used to give you when she meant "no way?" Well, that, too, looks alike in all cultures. There is a ride in the Olympic village where you are in cage held up by bungee cord. The cage hangs about 10 stories in the air. Once you're in the cage, a machine pulls the cage down to the ground, then lets go, catapulting you higher than some of the buildings. 

Every kid for miles around gravitated to this ride. And every mom was right behind, giving the universal look that can decalcify the spinal columns of children. 

Pin trading is a big deal at the Olympics. Kids and adults alike trade the pins off their hats and shirts. No language is needed. You point at the one of theirs you want, and they do the same to you. 

And what was the most popular pin on my hat? The one everybody wanted? Was it any of my Olympics pins? No way. They wanted my Star Trek pin. Trekkies really do come from all countries. 

During Opening Ceremonies, certain crowds would chant a country's name as the athletes passed by. For many of the countries, the chant was easy. "China! China! China!" Or, "Congo! Congo! Congo!" But for some countries, the crowd settled on just waving and cheering. After all, how do you chant, "The Former Yugoslav Republic of Macedonia?" 

When the French athletes walked by, one woman yelled loudly, "Oh my God! They've accessorized! They've got purses." 

When the Comoros athletes walked by, nobody in one section of the stadium could figure out where that country was located. So the crowd began to chant, "Where are you? Where are you?" 

Perhaps the most significant moment of the night came when Janet Evans ran up the aisle with the torch and handed it off to Muhammad Ali. When Ali's picture came up on the giant television screen, the crowd, in near unison, gasped, cheered, then yelled his name. 

It didn't matter what country you were from. Everybody knew Ali. Indeed, in that stadium that night, 197 countries were represented and, yet, it seemed like there was just one country ... that of the human race. 

There were no borders, no hatred, no fear and no bigotry. 

The Atlanta Games organizer, Billy Payne, asked us to make a promise about the Olympic Games: "Promise that you will never forget what you see and hear." 

I, for one, will not.