Moments after stepping off the Narita airport train, Paul and I were accosted by the Drunk Monkey. This strange little man stopped us, gargled excitedly in some indecipherable dialect, waved his hands violently, slobbered, then disappeared in a flash of green light. Just as we were dismissing our encounter as random and meaningless, the Drunk Monkey reappeared, this time clutching a plastic bag filled with various cans of Japanese beer, all of which were shared and consumed on the spot. There was much joy, the occasional embrace, and more slobbering. What a welcome! We then knew the Drunk Monkey's appearance was neither random nor meaningless, instead a brilliant portent for the saucy days ahead. Thank you, Drunk Monkey, for the mirthful delieverance into the arms of your motherland, and also the plastic bag of beers.