Here one is.
When I flew out to meet my ship in Bahrain in 1991, the ship wasn't in port yet. Someone did pick the lot of us up from the airport as we staggered off of the jet. The flight had left Philadelphia, and stopped in the Azores, Rota, Naples, and finally landed in Bahrain. Back then, people could smoke on airplanes, so the back "smoking section" was constantly obscured in a fog of smoke. The pilot even joked about it when he'd turn on the smoking lamp (say they could smoke.) "I'm going to turn on the light, but I'd like you all to just restrict yourself lighting up one cigarette at a time." Hee!
But back to Bahrain...we climbed on the bus and basically went to a small farm of quonset huts, where someone sorted out whose ship or unit was in port, who needed to go get on the COD heading for the carrier, and who just needed to wait. The dozen or so of us who had nowhere to go that night (morning?) got assigned berthing in one of the huts, which were segregated by gender because of the common bath facilities at the end.
The female building was pretty empty. I crawled into bed, but woke up when I heard a lot of voices. Male voices. So I poke my head out of the door, and there's a whole group of sandy, sweaty, exhausted men. When the fellow I'm talking to hears that the barracks is for females, his shoulders slump and he droops. He tells me that they've been awake for what sounded to me like a terribly long time, and so I smile. "No problem. Just call out when you go into the head, and if you're in there when someone calls out, answer up."
And it would have worked, except that either someone else sleeping there or the folks in charge of berthing figured it all out about two hours later and made them all move.
And you know what? It would have worked just fine the way it was.