I went to Japan once.
It's a long flight, and halfway through I got up to use the bathroom. I opened the door on a little Asian lady sitting on the toilet. She gasped in terror, but all I saw was a quick bunching of skirts, old knees, and dark glasses.
I shut the door, and like an idiot, blurbled out something like "Oh thats so embarassing".
Another old lady, sitting nearby, said "Its her fault, she no lock the door."
While I was there, two seventh grade boys told me I had "boobs". They didn't use words, though. They were sitting across from me, and one nudged the other, then proceeded to pull out the chest of his shirt into two unmistakable points. He did it a few more times in rapid succession, and then pointed at me. They laughed hysterically.
It was incredibly humid; sweat streamed off my shaved head the whole time. People kept offering me tissues to sop myself with. When I checked the mirror, there were tissue bits stuck all over my head.
I wondered if the tissue offers kept coming for the sweat, or to get the other tissues off that were already up there.
It was while I was in Japan that I started a novel again. My first attempt had gone to about sixty pages and than deflated under the weight of its Profound Importance. This one went to about three, my mind blanked, and I started building a plastic robot kit I had bought from a convenience store instead.
I wrote alot more when I was younger. My head was full of stories; they were all oddly similar to the Lord of the Rings. You know your fantasy novel is in trouble when the first paragraph is stuffed with "ergal" and "thothering" type sounds, and the main character (whom you have drawn a cool picture of that you placed in your Trapper-Keeper) turns hobbity type heads with the moniker "Barathorn".
One gem I agonized over I had titled Centaur Rose, about a man who is losing his memory and falls in love with a female centaur he finds living in the countryside. He knows he's reached rock bottom when he cannot remember if you put aftershave on before or after you shave. He has to ask his mom(?). He sobs most meaningfully when she supplies him with the answer.