I was a foreign student in grad school at Wisconsin and recall lottery evening very clearly.  My date of birth came up quite late in the proceedings, and I wished I could trade with any registrant who had not been so lucky.  

One such unfortunate still had his sense of humour, though.  Later that night I saw him, many sheets to the wind, walking along Henry Street towards Langdon from Johnson.  I’m not sure "walking" is the right word, "careening", "ricocheting" or "staggering"  being perhaps more accurate.  He was wearing a hastily-made sandwich board bearing a big black "1" and was chanting "I’m Number One!  I’m Number One!"