Observation of a Designated Driver

Preparing tortilla soup, a winter salad with homemade lemon poppyseed dressing, and cheesecakes (peppermint and white chocolate raspberry) for thirty Shonan ladies and transporting all that food and kitchen paraphernalia across base last Friday morning left me almost too pooped to participate in our semi-annual dinner outing with the Japanese Navy medical admirals in Yokohama that night. But we had expanded our guest list to include the new U.S. Naval Hospital Commanding Officer and his wife, a genuinely nice couple, so I took a ten-minute nap and ran a brush through my bob while the Ancient Mariner raced to the Navy Exchange in search of gift bags to be filled with odds and ends from our closets, cupboards, and liquor cabinet.

I'm glad I rallied. We spent a lovely evening with our old and new friends at a Chinese restaurant on the 28th floor of Yokohama's Sky Building and then squeezed into a train car crammed with Japanese party animals for the return trip to Yokosuka. The train was so crowded that people who might normally be characterized as falling down drunk could not possibly fall down. I think I was the only member of our party who noticed this . . .