I pulled my icepick from the frozen snow and carefully advanced another step. Craning my neck, I could finally see over the tip of Everest, like a god surveying the earth. My lifelong dream had been accomplished; I was the master of nature. I stripped off my clothes and made myself a dry martini, no ice.

Sure, I was quickly frostbitten and impotent, but I didn’t care: this was my moment. I curled into the fetal position and threw myself forward, careening end over end down the peak. Picking up speed, I quickly transformed into a giant snowball tumbling down the world’s tallest mountain. With this, my second lifelong dream had been accomplished.

Eventually my snowball fell into a crevasse and I was trapped in what would become my frozen casket, thus fulfilling my third and final lifelong dream. In those last moments, I laughed at the pathetic suburbanites who will never truly experience the world.

Then, in my very last moments, I cried and realized I had been extremely foolish and should have had more conservative aspirations — maybe investment banking.

But in my very, very last moments, an investment banker in a giant snowball crashed into me and I felt at peace knowing that anyone could have made this kind of mistake.