The second place led us deep into their wine cave (do I sense a future euphemism?), to a set of white-clothed tables next to a big yellow Chihuly piece. It was beautiful, and totally unsuited to the crew that I was rolling with. The guy who walked us through the tastings was the embodiment of Bo from Friday Night Lights (Blue 42! Blue 42! I like candy! Candy candy candy! Hut hut hike!), but all grown up. He windmilled his arms while talking about oak and aging and oxidization, and I got the giggles so bad I spit out my '98 Oakville Cab. The wine was delicious, and they served us the tastiest aged gouda that I have ever had the pleasure of sneakily hoarding.
The fact that we got scolded in both places for not settling down to our lesson makes me like my coworkers even more, though I'm sure the booze didn't hurt. Did I mention that it was 100 degrees in Napa yesterday? After a day of heat and wine, someone went to bed mighty early last night. And that someone was most certainly definitely absolutely me.