Suddenly it became clear that there was a way of testing this parity idea.  And so, we went to the laboratory and dashed in on this poor, confused steward and started rearranging the apparatus and telling him, “Do this, do that, do the other thing,” and he saw his thesis flying out the window.  “What are you doing to my apparatus?”  And someone said, “Don’t worry about it. It’s going to be great.”  And we worked on the weekend, preparing this experiment.  And it turned out that we started collecting data Monday evening, and by three o’clock Tuesday morning, we knew something that nobody else in the world knew: that this symmetry idea that we had been working on was not a perfect symmetry, that there was an imperfection in the symmetry, a very important imperfection in the symmetry.  That was the key discovery.  That’s the eureka moment, when suddenly you know something. Your hands sweat; you get into all kinds of symptoms of tremendous excitement.  First of all, it’s fear.  Is it right?  And it’s incredible humor.  “How could it be any other way?  It had to be that way!  How could we have been so stupid not to see this?”  The next thing is, “When can I tell people?” and “Who do I want to call first?”  Now, all these things jumble in on you in a great feeling of tremendous excitement.  Of course, many scientists say, “I do science because I’m curious.” That’s not enough because if you were satisfying your own curiosity and you couldn’t tell anybody how clever you are to find it out, it would be useless.  So you’ve got to communicate.  All of this piles in, in this moment of discovery.