He created The West Wing (plus a bunch of other stuff*), but you knew that already. This was his best show, and “17 People” was its best non-Dire-Straits-featuring episode.

Unironically yapping about my love for this in 2014 is tricky, because my love for the series it belonged to has become so uncomfortably, uh, asterisk-laden lately. Back in those halcyon early-00’s days, I loved The West Wing. We all did! And now that it’s streaming to boot, freeing me from fiddling with those box-set envelope-sleeves, it’s even easier to revisit—which creates a nostalgia problem. The West Wing’s faults are glaring in the harsh light of day, but “17 People,” having aged tremendously well, remains a knockout. We’re given 45 minutes in which there’s no Mandy, there’s still a Sam, and there’s still (for now) a Landingham. At no point does Bartlet affirm Donna’s folksy economic centrism. At no point does Toby try to “save” Social Security by cutting it. At no point are we asked to root for Jimmy Smits’ or Alan Alda’s Broderian distaste of the “tone” of politics. Instead, “17 People” is just Sorkin caught momentarily at peace with the world, and producing a fun hour of too-clever, too-tired characters bouncing off each other.

I love this episode despite its mistakes (Sorkin has Emily Procter say article when he meant amendment). It shows off my favorite computer, which would have been mere days old at the time of shooting (Toby’s erstwhile TiBook). It contains my favorite West Wing punchline, which I keep waiting for a chance to use at parties (“I could’ve countered that, but I’d already moved on to other things in my head”). It sports not just one, but two grammar jokes (Josh’s indefinite article before “h”; Bartlet’s “surgeons general”). Even the sound editing stands out—listen for the unseen doors closing; the bourbon glasses clinking; the metronome thok of that incessant rubber ball.

But more than anything, it’s the acting across its five disparate stories. In words said and unsaid, a lot happens in this hour, though it never feels rushed. It just unfolds, convincingly, over the course of one late evening. It is, simultaneously: a story of intrigue, of persuasion, of drama, of comedy, and of romance.