In retrospect, one of the greatest experiences of my life was entering forensics state qualifiers for impromptu on a whim, going on to place fifth when three slots were available, and finding out that places one and two were going in extemp rather than impromptu. But that took place over the course of an entire day, and the culmination is hardly what I'd describe as positive. I think my initial reaction was disbelief, and it wasn't until the following morning that I realized, "holy crap, I'm going to state."
On my high school Mock Trial team, I only do pre-trial. One of the things that I love most about pre-trial attorney is that you can do all of your work independently, meaning that you don't have to attend any meetings. Also, the fact that little research has to be done and little preparation is necessary to give a legal argument is nice. However, the part that I love most about it is that rather than waiting until after long deliberation has been done to hear a verdict, you get to hear whether the pre-trial motion has passed immediately. This also has a direct impact on the rest of the team. Even though the verdict doesn't affect your score, learning that you've just won the motion is really awesome, especially when the opposing pre-trial attorney happens to be an old forensics adversary from a rival school that you vowed to "fight to the ends of the earth."
Another notable experience would be in FIRST Vex Competition. At a national qualifier, our team advanced to elimination rounds by pure fluke and opposing malfunctioning robots, and we got a first-round bye, but was eliminated in the following round after two consecutive losses. That was pretty disappointing. However, we figured that we still stood a chance at winning an award based on our community involvement, and watched other teams compete until the awards ceremony. Sadly, the awards ceremony was equally depressing, as awards were distributed without us as a recipient. The last award given was the champion's award, given for "best of show." We were nearly certain that we would not receive this, given our less-than-optimal robot design and lack of FIRST Robotics Competition experience. However, as the MC read the description for the winning team, we realized that the description being read matched many of the responses that we had given to our judges during interview. Just as we were beginning to realize this, our team number was read, and our faces lit up with the realization that we would be going to Atlanta.
Probably the best moment of my life was at a regional Science Bowl event, starting the first round off with an interrupt and a correct bonus. Scoring a large percentage of my team's points and getting a 14-point lead in the first three minutes and my teams accompanying reaction (gratitude, not envy!) was awesome. In retrospect, it wasn't that amazing, but given our mental state for most of the morning, it was relative heaven. And we ended up missing advancing by two slots.
Other contenders for "best moment of my life" are probably debate tournaments. I recall one Congress round where my argument on funding the advancement of hydrogen fuel technology suggested bringing William Shatner and Patrick Stewart out of retirement so that they could help us get our hands on some dilithium crystals (or pure hydrogen, failing that). Later, I found out that I had placed first in that round, which made me happy. And nothing gets the adrenaline rushing like a good debate on capital punishment, unless it's an argument about whether UN's valuation of national sovereignty over individual rights is misplaced.
Every time that I consider experimenting with illicit drugs, I consider that I could probably attain an even higher level of euphoria if I just undertook another scholastic endeavor. Or, you know, got around to playing the next Gyakuten Saiban game. But that wouldn't have the added effect of enhancing my humility.