Made it to the airport for the flight home. While cleaning out the rental, I found one last can of beer that I'd somehow overlooked earlier. I jammed it into a cargo pocket and trudged into the terminal, thinking all during check-in how good it was going to taste. Since busting the top and chugging it right out in the middle of the terminal would be bad form, I adjourned to the nearest men's room to partake of my beverage in the relative privacy of one of the stalls. But alas, the beer was not to be enjoyed, for as I pulled it from my pocket, I lost my grip on it and it fell to the floor and rolled away under the divider. I'm not sure where it wound up but I heard it roll for what seemed like a long time, and of course even if I could find it again ("Yo! Anyone see a beer?"), the idea of putting that can to my mouth just didn't have the same appeal that it did a few seconds prior.
So please...a moment of silence for my can of Coors. It deserved better, and so did I, dammit.