Paul MacCready: Well, the event was perhaps one of the most exciting things certainly that I will ever live through or that any of the people involved with it would live through, but it doesn’t mean it’s something we’d want to go do again. Maybe the pilot was tired, but the 100 other people who were all in boats going along with him, trying to use psychokinesis to lift him up mentally, were certainly exhausted by the time the thing was over. The big pressure was organizing this thing. You had to predict the previous day, by three o’clock, whether you were going to do a flight the next day. And none of the weather forecasts you got ever agreed — or ever agreed with the weather that subsequently materialized. It’s a very difficult area to get good weather forecasts. I’d actually have to ride over on a bike — and a broken foot at the time and a cast on — and I’d have to ride over from the airport to a pay phone and find the weather forecasts and then turn on, or not turn on, the whole project. And once the project was turned on, which it was for this day, about 100 people, journalist types, were converging from all over Europe — and all the team, the DuPont people. It was about like operating D-Day out of a pay telephone booth. It had pressure, and the usual pressures: we were running out of money and the weather wasn’t right. But finally, we thought, “Okay, let’s try it.” There was really zero chance of it working right the first time, and the first plane was considered sort of a sacrificial plane. We didn’t know what was going to go wrong, but we knew some of the 100 things that could go wrong would go wrong. So we assembled the plane on a thing called The Warrens, where one of the early tunnels was starting to be dug from England to France. It’s an acre of concrete just in the right place for us.