It didn't seem possible, but his ever-present ear-to-ear grin became wider.
We were jumping around our flea-infested Victoria basement apartment cheering and high-fiving like crazy. Dave Winfield had just hammered a two-run double off Atlanta Braves pitcher Charlie Leibrandt in the 11th inning of Game 6 to give our Toronto Blue Jays their first World Series title.
The year was 1992.
He wasn't the biggest baseball fan in the world, but the Blue Jays first World Series victory was something we shared other than the monthly costs of that literally flea-bitten apartment.
We agreed on the Jays. We agreed the landlord had to do something about the bugs. We agreed we were good friends.
And that's about it.
He was finishing up his Masters at the University of Victoria and I was completing my courses to become an emergency medical attendant. For a brief time, I decided to pursue a career other than an ink-stained one. A decision I grew to regret and returned to tapping a keyboard.
He, however, always knew what he wanted to do.
From time-to-time, tapping out words for the paper has affected positive social change. Something for which I am always proud.
He, however, had much bigger plans.
We spent many hours talking about our vision of the world. While we agreed it needed to change ... how and to what end, was a very different matter.
To put it mildly, his political views would make Jennifer Rice and Nathan Cullen look like right-wing extremists.
Regardless of our differing ideology, our spirited debates generally ended with a respectful clinking of wobbly pop bottles.
But in the end, his plans weren't about politics or self.
The very core of his being was about service.
After university, he joined UNICEF and worked as a programme officer in Kosovo and Ethiopia. In May 2002, he took over as UNICEF's acting director of Iraq programmes.
He was making that difference. His future was so bright.
Then, 10 years ago, on Aug. 19, 2003, a truck full of explosives detonated outside of the UN headquarters in Baghdad where he was in a meeting working to protect millions of Iraqi children in the war-torn country.
He was killed instantly.
The world lost one of its best that terrible day.
He was the epitome of intelligence, dedication and altruism. He was a great Canadian and an even better humanitarian.
He was my friend.
He was 32.
He will never be forgotten.
He was Chris Klein-Beekman.