I'm currently sat on a coach. Somewhere in Hertfordshire. It's just coming up to 7:30 and the sun is going down out of the window to my left. The radio is playing some tinny, unrecognisable pop track. My mate Steve is jolting himself awake from his slumbers every so often. Thankfully before his head lands on my right shoulder.
I am slightly hoarse and when I do speak, the odd word comes out with a slight squeak. I have a glow on my cheeks from a few beers in the sun, but more importantly pride in my team. Pride that no bitter and twisted Wednesdayite is going to downgrade or diminish.
I believed that United would turn up today, when so often they have gone missing at Wembley. I believed that they would play with unity, pride and no shortage of passion. For forty five minutes they more than surpassed that.
They outfought and outplayed a lifeless Hull side and scored their first goals in three visits to new Wembley.
As Jose Baxter opened the scoring within the first twenty minutes I was in shock. I celebrated like I've never celebrated before but felt kind of shell shocked. When Stefan Scougall added the second, straight after Hull had equalised, I hugged my mates and felt tears welling up.
I thought of my Nan, who passed away last August. I wished she had seen this. United outplaying a Premier League team, two divisions above us. They are performing at Wembley Nan. I pictured her sat in an armchair, holding her scarf, kicking every ball.
I thought of my Dad, back home listening to the radio. This, one Wembley trip too many to contemplate. I wished that he was stood next to me.
I knew it could all change. It did. But for forty five minutes I felt on top of the world. At half time I saw and hugged a Blade I know from twitter. We stood in queues, wide eyed in wonder. We deserved this. We had lost concentration once and been punished, but that aside we had performed way above any expectations.
We will tire, got to keep it solid for ten or fifteen minutes, we said. We have a chance then.
In the end, neither happened. Facing an onslaught after positive half time changes by Steve Bruce we found ourselves 4-2 down and seemingly down and out. Then in the final 90 seconds of normal time we scored. We had a chance and nothing to lose.
Throwing caution to the wind in injury time time, Harry Maguire burst forward. His shot was blocked and Hull broke scoring a fifth goal.
As one, the 32,000 Blades fans started applauding and cheering their team, with the Hull fans in raptures at the opposite end having sealed victory. It's something I've never seen or experienced before. Pride in the team. Pride in the club. Acknowledgment that we had lost, but by heck we had given it a go. And Hull knew it.
Ultimately the result is tinged with disappointment. When you lead 2-1 and eventually lose there is bound to be that emotion. But the fans lifted their arms, stuck out their chests and applauded the crestfallen players in red and white shirts.
Much has changed at Sheffield United in the last 7 months, most - if not all - of it for the better. We are a couple of players, a striker in particular, away from a successful side. The cup run, allied with the upturn in league form, makes the retention and recruitment of players an easier task.
Off the pitch the club is operating more efficiently and creatively, with communication much improved and a genuine unification of fans, players, staff and board members.
People left Wembley tonight in a positive mood. A seemingly hard concept for some fans of other clubs to consider. We had conceded five they said, what is there to be happy about? How little they know.
As the sun disappears beyond the horizon and the day is ending, it is clear that United are moving in a positive direction. And today is only the beginning.