Living in Japan, and outside of the main city, the main problem of a night out is gettting back home.
What do you do? Stay out all night and wait jaded and confused for the first train in the morning, stop over at an internet cafe or a love hotel or make a mad rush to the train station to catch that last train?
If you take the last train, you can have up to an hour crammed into a tin cage on wheels rocking gently forward and back to your destination, the highs of the night`s excesses passed and the nausea, floating dismemberment and pile-of-vomit shame instead as your new mental companion.
Should I be glad it`s not the last boat rocking me into vomit induced shame?
I always say that the only thing worse than falling asleep, penniless, in a pool of your own vomit on the last train is falling asleep in a pool of your own vomit, penniless, on the last train, and completely missing your stop.