We had pulled in for a port visit to Sasebo, Japan - pretty much on the western edge of one of those big Japan islands, and the side where the emperors had opened up certain ports to a bit of western trade back in the day. I had gone to get souvenir pottery, what the region was known for, at an outlet a few miles away (taxi ride) earlier in the day. Bargaining via calculator and all, pretty fun. All the purchases I'd dropped off in my tiny shoebox of a hotel room (the kind where the bed touches wall on 3 sides and your bathroom is like a little pod), arranged on the bed. Anyway, some of the crew and I went out for drinking and karaoke later, and that's a whole other story by itself, but the end of that story is that I woke up on the floor of that same hotel room (just enough room for a 6'2" guy to lay down!). Face-down, vomit all over the floor and the little slippers they give you. Damn that shochu! Tastes like water. But damn it, the pottery was safe, and in my blacked-out-drunk state in a foreign land, I had enough sense not to collapse onto the fucking pottery on the bed. I never told the people I gifted those souvenirs to what terrible pain and soreness and hungoverness I had fought to bring them their pottery.