I went to Texas for three days and four nights, and on the third night, I dropped your souvenir in the elevator and broke it.
We can blame many things.
The weather: Windier than I'm used to. And cold for Houston.
The dinner at Ibiza: Sinful soft shell crab, fried oysters, white Bordeaux blend, fresh anchovies drizzled with olive oil, the pork chop, 2003 Reserve Pinot Noir, flourless chocolate cake.
The glass-sided elevator rushing madly to the 21st floor: 'Don't look down.'
But I did anyway.
Don't worry -- I have another bottle waiting for you at home.
Ah, home.
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